


Not what you thought (I'm sorry, I didn't know.)

by Cas_tellations



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dysphoria, F/M, FTM, M/M, Suicide mentions, Trans, but also for beta'ing some of this, many thanks to adrien for not only putting up with my shit, selfharm mentions, trans!dan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-10-13 03:53:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cas_tellations/pseuds/Cas_tellations
Summary: Dan's ready to start his new life, as a boy. As Dan instead of Yazi. He's going to a new school in Manchester, where everybody knows him as Dan. Everything's going fine, except for when Nichole texts him and his binder is too tight and when dysphoria hits him like a fucking train. Oh, and there's that kid that sits with him behind the school at lunchtime and brings him food.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi hello!
> 
> I started writing this ages ago so I finally decided to start posting it! Updates every Thursday.

 

 

 

 

 

Dan takes a deep breath. Last month's events play through his already-too-full mind, swirling together and making tears sting the corner of his eyes. Not sad, no. More like, just overwhelmed. To the extent of crying. In short, he was a mess. He takes another deep breath to stop a sob from escaping his chest, rolling onto his front, a whimper muffled by his pillow. 

 

Boxes litter the floor around him, still having to be properly unpacked. A few Muse posers poke out of one that he had opened earlier, though he hadn’t actually found the will to take all the trivial bits and pieces from his old life and spread them and the memories that they held all over this fresh, new, clean start. His Dad had helped him set up the bed, and his mother had spoken about re-painting the walls, the pale pink paint that the room currently held was flaking off. Besides, it was pink. After the bed had been assembled, his Dad had said something about getting the wardrobe and desk up the stairs the next day, in order to put them into Dan’s new room. 

 

A fresh start. 

 

The first night, and tears are already on the pillow and maybe it’s overwhelmingness of maybe it’s homesickness even though this is his new home. This is his fresh start. 

 

He hears a soft knock on his half-open door, and halfheartedly sits up, offering his Mum a little smile, leaning against her side when she sits on the edge of his bed. 

 

“I’m okay.” Dan says, in lieu of the tears that still raced down his pale cheeks. 

 

“Then why the tears, love?” She wraps an arm around Dan’s shoulders and hugs her son. 

 

“I’m happy.” He confesses. 

 

Even her chin trembles at this. She says,  _ “Oh, Dan.” _  Because  s he can’t remember the last time that Dan had said that. Years ago, most likely. Before soft white lines specked across his wrists and thighs and stomach, barely visible now. Before a night spent at a hospital, getting his stomach pumped after a badly-ended party at a friend’s house. Before she had asked him,  _ “Why, Yazi, why are you doing this to yourself?”  _ To which he had broken down and said,  _ “Because I hate myself and I feel gross all the time and I think I might be a boy and it’s killing me!”  _ He hadn’t been able to breath after he said that. Some said that when they told someone about how they were feeling, it was like a weight had been lifted off their chest. 

 

Not Dan. It had felt like he was drowning, suffocating under too many emotions. the next day, according to his parents, he had passed out in his room, in a pool of blood. He didn’t wake up until hours later, in a hospital, more thick bandages wrapped around his wrists and a therapist talking to his parents. 

 

He had been scared, of course. Not knowing what was happening and not recalling the exact words that he had said before. He wanted to go home but they wouldn’t let him. He had stayed at the hospital for weeks. They made him talk to therapists, talk to his parents, talk to doctors, all in trying to figure out what would happen in the future. 

 

_ ‘Are you going to try and do it again?’, ‘Do you feel like you need to get drunk or high?’, ‘Do you regret it?’, ‘What would you like us to do?’, ‘Can you tell me how you feel, Yazi?’ _

 

_ ‘No. Yes, I don’t know yet.’, ‘Yes, I do.’, ‘For other people, yes.’, ‘I don’t know.’, ‘I don’t know, don’t call me Yazi.’ _

 

They had settled on Dan in the end. Daniel James Howell. Dan thought that it sounded good. Masculine and strong. A new name, a new house, new school, hopefully new friends. A new start. 

 

Three months after everything had happened, yet it still seems as if everything’s moving too fast. 

 

His mom tells him that she’s happy, too. 

 

She tells him that she thinks that this will work. 

 

She tells him that she loves him. 

 

And then, she leaves and Dan is left alone with his thoughts again. He flops back onto his bed, his hands resting on his stomach. He decided to try talking to his parents about going on testosterone tomorrow at breakfast. That is, if he could pluck up his courage. Even after all the therapy and endless pushes from other people to just  _ talk  _ to them about how he feels; he’s still constantly struggling to open up. 

 

His parents tell him that they understand, and how this is hard for them too, but they support him and will do everything that they can do to help him, but what they don’t get is that a huge part of this is something that Dan has to deal with on his own. They can’t fix everything, no matter how much they’d like to. 

 

The binder is hurting his back more than he’d like to admit. His parents had gotten it for him as a  _ ‘you’re out of the hospital which means that you’re not going to try to kill yourself again yay we love you son’  _ gift. Still, Dan had been overjoyed. Very obviously, it made him feel more valid. Like his parents accepted that being trans was a thing that he actually was, and not just some weird teen ‘phase’ or trend. 

 

He runs his hands under his T-shirt, feeling the flatness of his chest, slight happiness trailing through his body. Back down, to the curve of his waist that’s too feminine and brings the dysphoria back. Hips that are too wide. Fingers slim and slender. Torso too narrow. Face too angular and eyelashes too thick. 

 

He pinches at his skin, pulling a bit of it away from his body and then letting it go, the fat instantly going back into place. A glare makes it’s way onto his face. 

 

The room feels too small. 

 

His chest hurts and it feels to tight and why can’t he breath where did the air go?

 

He gasps, fighting for breath and then launching himself out of bed, to the window. Fumbling with the lock before pushing it open, letting the cold autumn air press against his too-warm body. 

 

He squeezes his eyes shut and keeps telling himself that this is all happening just because he’s overwhelmed. That’s it; just overwhelmed and homesick for his old house back in London. 

 

He pulls himself up to the windowsill, letting his feet dangle down into the empty space outside, cold swirling around him, offering comfort of sorts. If his mom saw him now, she’d yell at him to get down, saying something about how she didn’t go through all of this just for him to break his neck whilst falling two stories down from a window. He ignores her non-existent nagging, focusing instead on the sharp window frame cutting into the back of his thighs. 

 

He tells himself that he shouldn’t like the discomfort that it’s making him feel, but likes it anyway.

 

-

 

He ignores the slight bruising on his rib cage when he puts his binder back on after a shower. In the past, if he had a bruise, he would press his fingers against it, letting the dull ache feel considerably sharper. But he doesn’t touch the bruises on his rib cage. Doesn’t stare at his naked body in the mirror, picking out all of the things that he hates about himself, either. He tells himself that these are steps forward, however small they may seem. He tells himself that he’s happier, pushing the lingering thoughts of how he still craved to do the things that everyone had told him were wrong. 

 

He paints a smile on his face before he goes around the corner to the kitchen, taking a deep breath despite the binder’s restrictions. 

 

Just overwhelmed, but he can get through this. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

 

-

 

Nichole texts him just as he’s shoving a forkful of syrup-drenched pancake into his mouth. He chokes on the food, coughing it out all over his plate, his eyes watering. His Mum frowns at him, and he shoots her a slightly-apologetic looking smile, before grabbing his phone off the table. 

 

Nic:  _ Maven said that Tris said that you moved wtf.  _

 

Dan:  _ Sorry for not telling you yikes my bad. _

 

Nic:  _ Tf happened. _

 

Nic:  _ Don’t ignore me you little shit im ur best friend why didn’t you tell me? _

 

Dan:  _ It’s a long story. _

 

Nic:  _ Well, I’ve got time. Tell me. _

 

Dan:  _ Im trans. A boy. Yknow how bad the drinking and drugs got, and the selfharm you know about that, too. My parents found out. In the hospital for ages and now in manchester. A new start, apparently.  _

 

Dan’s hands are shaking as he types. But only a little. 

 

Nic:  _ And you didn’t tell me, why? _

 

Dan:  _ I should have. I’ve been a mess. _

 

Nic:  _ A mess is an understatement, kid. I haven’t heard from you in ages. _

 

Nic:  _ I didn’t even get to say goodbye??? How’s that fair??? _

 

Dan:  _ Sorry. _

 

Nic:  _ Stop apologizing, I get why you did it. _

 

Nic:  _ I just fucking miss you. _

 

Dan:  _ You know I miss you, too. _

 

Nic:  _ I gtg but we need to talk later bye  _

 

Dan:  _ Bye. _

 

“No texting at the table.” Dan’s Mum chides just as he puts his phone back down. He swallows thickly and sips at his orange juice. 

 

Through everything, breakfast was the one thing that had always stayed the same. His Mum would always make a huge breakfast, and they would always eat it together. Him, his Mum, and his Dad. Two years ago, Nichole would have joined them too, many times a week. That was, until everything spiraled down into shit.

 

His parents had told her not to come by their house anymore. They thought that she was the one who was bringing their child down. Backwards, even then, trying to make everything someone else’s fault. 

 

Nichole’s fault that Yazi’s coming home drunk, Nichole’s fault that we have to get Yazi’s stomach pumped, Nichole’s fault that Yazi’s high, Nichole’s fault that Yazi is hurting herself. 

 

Never once, the truth. Never once a ‘Yazi’s like this because she’s sad and we’re blaming other people instead of trying to help.’ 

 

Apparently it took a suicide attempt to get their heads outof their asses. 

 

-

 

The school is only a ten minute walk away from their new house, but Dan’s parents still insist on driving him. An excuse of; “We have to talk to the principal” was one that Dan couldn’t really brush off that easily. 

 

Dan’s hands shake a bit as he walks up the steps to the intimidating front entrance. His parents are a few paces behind him.

 

This nervousness isn’t really comparable to any other that he’d felt before. Right now, he’s scared that someone will find out that he’s trans. Maybe his hips are too wide and this eyelashes are too thick and his lips to full and his chest to big. The binder bites into his ribs uncomfortably but he tells himself that this is normal and that everything’s going to be fine.

 

-

 

Dan’s standing in front of the men’s bathroom door. He takes a deep breath, then another. He glances to right towards the girl’s room. 

 

He glares, then pushes open the door. 

 

_ He did it. _

 

-

 

It’s hard to breath. The classroom seems too small and stuffy and his new classmates seem to loud and his chest feels too big even though it’s compressed down so much that it digs into his ribs.

 

He lifts two fingers up to his neck, pressing them into the skin just below his jawline, feeling his pulse. Like he’s checking to see if he’s really alive. 

 

_ Thump, thump, thump, _ his heart goes. 

 

_ They’re going to see that you’re not cis, _ his mind goes.

 

The teacher -- Dan hadn’t bothered trying to remember her name -- is talking about some sort of math equation. He’d look up how to do it on youtube later. Right now, he main priority is trying to stay somewhat sane. 

 

He’s never really felt like this before and therefore doesn’t really know how to deal with it. 

 

Everyone here called him Dan. Or  _ Daniel.  _ Not one  _ ‘Yazi’  _ had slipped past anybody's lips. 

 

Wasn’t this supposed to make him feel more like himself? Because right now it just confused him even more. Yes, it feels  _ good  _ to hear everybody calling him by his new name. But would they  _ still  _ call him that even if they knew that he was trans? 

 

-

 

Lunch is another thing altogether. 

 

In classes, he had a set schedule. 

 

Though he hadn’t really been paying too much attention to the teachers, it seemed as if he had a purpose; to learn. To absorb knowledge that he’d most likely never use again. To ignore the loud cis boys at the back of the class and the equally loud straight girls at the front, to smile in a way that hopefully was kind at the misfits scattered around everywhere - the people that his Mum would want him to be friends with. The people who actually listened. He could promptly ignore the other ones; the Nichole-type people. The ones who smoked behind the school gym when they were bored and got shitfaced on school nights and seldom slept for a full six-hours. He could remember being one of those types of people. Maybe he still was. Maybe that’s why his skin itched when one of their gazes fell on him, silently asking,  _ ‘whom art thou Daniel?’  _

 

And then, Lunch. 

 

Dan goes outside. He’s not hungry anyway. 

 

He debated walking down the street a bit to go to the cafe that he had seen on the way there. 

 

As it was, he ended up behind the school, glancing around quickly to see if anybody could see him, then shoving his hands up his shirt and pulling the edges of his binder away from his red skin. It didn’t help much. 

 

He sits there, beside a storage shed, until the bell rings. 

 

-

 

Nic:  _ Where are you living now anyway? _

 

Dan:  _ Just outside of manchester. _

 

Nic:  _ You gonna get a northern accent? _

 

Dan:  _ I’d rather die tbh _

 

Nic:  _ So. _

 

Dan:  _ SoO?? _

 

Nic:  _ How are you? _

 

Nic:  _ And dont you fuckign dARE pull any of that ‘im fine’ bullshit _

 

Nic:  _ Tell me, Mr.Howell, how are you doing? _

 

Dan:  _ I’m goooooooood _

 

Nic:  _ No ur not tell me how ur really doing you nerd _

 

Dan:  _ Idk  _

 

Dan:  _ Emotions are complicated af  _

 

-

 

“Did you have a good day at school?” Dan’s mum says when her son barges through the front door. 

 

“Yeah it was fine.” Dan grumbles, throwing his bag onto the floor and stomping up the stairs to his room.

 

“Y’know you could be a bit more grateful,” and then faintly hears his mum call, “We did this all for you, after all.” 

 

He pretends that he didn’t hear her.

 

-

 

Binder on, or binder off? Does the dysphoria win over the pain?

 

He keeps his binder on. 

 

He paces back and forth in his room. It’s too small for this kind of emotion. 

 

He throws open his window, leaning out of it. Downstairs, he can hear his mum preparing dinner. Minutes later, he was sure that he’d be able to hear his father coming home from work. They’d want to hear how his first day at school had been, “Did you meet any friends?”, “How are your teachers?”, “Did you find your way to your classes on time?”, “What did you eat for lunch?”, “Are you happy there?” 

_ No, fine, yes, nothing, no. _

 

He turns his phone on, his thumb hovering over the ‘Call’ button on Nichole’s contact. He shuts it off and throws it across the room. He needs to be strong and cut her off, isn’t that what his parents wanted him to do? And shouldn’t he pay attention and listen to their wishes after they’d literally uprooted their lives and moved to a new city -- all so that he could start over and be who he really is? 

 

He growls lightly, listening as the front door opens and then banging shut and as if on cue, his father’s bright and loud voice easily resonating up the stairs and to Dan’s little room full of  _ too much  _ but  _ not enough.  _

 

He digs into his pocket for earbuds and crosses the room to his phone, plugging them in and turning on the music too loud to hear anything. It can’t drown out his thoughts, but he does try.

 

The sun fades from the sky quickly. 

 

Dan peels his binder off his body when his mum calls him down for dinner. The red marks it leaves itch when he pulls on a loose hoodie, but he ignores it.

 

-

 

Dan wakes up before the sun’s rays shine over the horizon. 

 

He likes being awake early, it’s peaceful. He turns on some soft music and pushes his window open, letting the cool morning air waft into his room. 

 

-

 

He can see every one of his ribs. The mirror is a bit dirty and cracked, distorting his face slightly but showing his toso nearly perfectly. He prods a bit at the skin on his hips, a glare instantly making it’s way onto his face. There’s red marks along his chest, showing where the binder pressed down too hard. 

 

He cups his tits in his hands, digging his fingernails in, so much that it hurts. 

 

He moves his hands up, running them through his short brown hair, pushing it back up into a quiff and jutting his jaw forewards a bit, squaring his shoulders and standing with his legs farther apart. 

 

Masculine? Maybe?

 

His breasts are still there, his boxers fall flat where there should be a bulge. His eyelashes are thick and his hips are too wide and his stomach too flat and arms to skinny. When he talks, his voice sounds a bit too high. His face is smooth, no stubble. 

 

Feminine? Maybe?

 

But then again, what defines femininity and masculinity? Does it really all just depend on what you look like? 

 

-

 

He ends up scrunching up a sock and stuffing it down the front of his boxers, securing it in place with a few safety pins. He takes a huge deep breath, and then slips the too-tight binder on over his bruised ribs. 

 

Baggy jeans and an old T-shirt, followed by a sweatshirt. It wasn’t like he was trying to impress anybody. He digs through one of the cardboard boxes that still have yet to be unpacked, finding some matching socks and putting those on as well. 

 

He looks at his reflection again in the full-length mirror. Jutting out his jaw, squaring his shoulders, lifting his chin up, spreading his legs a bit.

 

He swallows thickly. 

 

Masculine, almost. 

 

As long as you ignored the things that he was hiding. 

 

-

 

The atmosphere at the school seems different. Dan brushes it off easily though, internally snapping at himself when fear jolts through him. 

 

He smiles at one of the girls in his class, looking away quickly when she furiously blushes. 

 

He sits behind the school by the shed at lunch again. He doesn’t know anyone well enough to eat with them. He scrolls few a few missed messages from Nichole, telling himself that he’d answer them later.

 

Killing time has always been one of Dan’s talents. It wasn’t useful for much, except for the fact that he could sit completely still for hours without getting bored. Most people would get all fidgety and want to move around, but he just sits there for the whole duration of the lunch time. An hour later, he goes back to class.

 

-

 

He hasn’t made any friends. 

 

It’s been a week at the new school, and he hasn’t said more than a dozen words to the same person. 

 

When his mum asks him how things are going, he brushes it off with a simple; “It’s fine.” 

 

It is. It is because everyone calls him Dan even though his voice is a little higher than most boys. It is, because nobody offers him a cigarette when they come behind the school smoke. It is, because his parents call him their son.

  
But, in another way; it’s all wrong. When asked about going on testosterone, or having surgery, his parents had exchanged a look and then said that they’d discuss it in the future. It’s wrong because his binder feels too tight and it’s bruising his ribs too much. It’s wrong because he doesn’t talk to anyone in case they figure out he’s trans.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS ADRIEN FOR BETA'ING THIS UR GR8 I LOVE YOU

 

 

 

 

 

The next Monday, Dan feels heavy. There’s a weight somewhere in his chest and he can’t ignore it. It requires so much effort to just convince himself to get out of bed. 

 

He doesn’t want to move. 

 

He feels like crying, but no tears are coming. 

 

What’s he going to do? Call him mum up to his room and state that he’s simply too ‘sad’ to go to school that day? Yeah, right. 

 

He pulls on a pair of jeans and glances around the room for his binder. 

 

Later, when he’s all packed up and binded down, he trudges downstairs. He leaves without telling his parents or eating breakfast. In truth, neither of those things seem important right now. 

 

His legs are heavy as if bricks have been tied to them. 

 

He can make it through this day. Tomorrow will be better. Just make it through the day.

 

-

 

Apparently, making it through the day was harder than it seemed. 

 

Lunch ended half an hour ago and he still can’t find the will to stand up. He had meant to go  and read a book for the hour, but now the book lies in the dirt beside him, discarded.  

 

“Hey,” a voice reaches Dan’s ears. 

 

Dan turns his head to face the newcomer, “Oh.” 

 

“Oh?” The person says, smirking slightly before sitting down beside Dan, their shoulders mere inches apart. 

 

“Nothin’.” Dan murmurs. 

 

“What’s wrong?” the boy says, reaching his hand out towards Dan’s face -as if he was about to push the curly hair away from his eyes -before thinking better of it and jerking his hand back. 

 

“M’fine,” Dan groans, crossing his arms. 

 

“You don’t  _ look  _ fine,” he points out. 

 

Dan thinks,  _ ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say,’  _ and then,  _ ‘It’s true though, isn’t it?’  _ He speaks neither of these thoughts. 

 

“What’s your name?” The person asks, in a tone far too soft for a stranger. 

 

When Dan doesn’t respond, he says, “I’m Phil.” 

 

-

 

Phil, as it turns out, wasn’t shaken that easily. 

 

He was there again the next day, sat on the dusty ground in Dan’s spot. He greets Dan with a soft smile and a, “Hello.” 

 

Dan eyes him warily, but sits down nonetheless, “Hi.”

 

Dan doesn’t need to look at Phil to know that his bright blue eyes had lit up, “He talks!” 

 

“Of course I talk, you nerd,” Dan mutters under his breath, though it’s loud enough for Phil to hear.

 

“No you didn’t, not yesterday,” Phil states quickly, fishing a brown paper bag out of his backpack.

 

“Yes, I did,” Dan protests weakly.

 

“Nonono, you didn’t. I was like ‘hi hi, hello friend, my name’s Phil,’ and you were just like; ‘grumble grumble I’m not gonna tell this weirdo my name,’” Phil says, pulling a sandwich out of the bag and handing half to Dan. 

 

“Thanks,” Dan says through a mouthful of sandwich, “I’m Dan, by the way.” 

 

“Danny,” Phil grins widely at him.

 

“No, we’re not at the stage of friendship where you can call me Danny,” Dan chides, yet a smile finds its way onto his face anyway.

 

“Will we ever be at that stage of friendship?” Phil questions.

 

“I don’t know. Stick around and see,” Dan offers.

 

Phil shuffles a bit closer to him, “Okay, I will.” 

 

-

 

It’s all too much. There’s a consistent voice in his head, telling him that he’s not enough - not a boy. 

 

His mind always settles on Nicole. 

 

She felt like safety - a security blanket, you might say.

 

The first time he had seen her, he had been nine years old. It was a rainy day, and he had forgotten his jacket. The cold bit at him, making him shiver and tug his saturated jumper closer to his body, which just made him colder. His nose was running and his long hair was all tangled. 

 

Then, the rain seemed to disappear. There’s a girl standing beside him - maybe a year older - holding an umbrella over his head. 

 

She had said: “You’re the new kid… Yazi, right?” 

 

Dan had replied: “Yeah, thanks.” and gestured up towards the umbrella. 

 

“No problem, I’m Nicole,” she smiled, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 

“You too.” 

 

Nicole had walked him home. At first he had protested, not wanting her to go out of her way for him. But as it turned out, she lived on the same street as him, only a few houses down. Dan had been so busy with moving that he hadn’t noticed any other kids living near his new house. 

 

It had become a part of his day after that. He’d wait by the gates of the school for Nicole - who was usually a bit late leaving her classes, or was busy with other friends, then she’d walk him home. After a few weeks she even came into his house with him. 

 

Before two months had passed, she was waking up early to eat breakfast at Dan’s house. She’d spend almost all her time there, to the point where Dan’s parents were calling her their ‘second daughter.’

 

-

 

The next day, Phil’s sitting there behind the school when Dan arrives during his lunch hour. But this time, Phil’s not alone. A few people were with him, cigarettes between their lips, leaning against the side of the building. Dan almost chokes on the scent of the smoke. He hates the way that he loves it.

 

Phil’s easily conversing with them, his eyes not flickering to where Dan stood, at the corner, undecided. The smoke reminds him of Nicole. The taste of it on her mouth, mixed with booze.

 

He backs away quickly, slipping back inside the school building to hide in one of the men’s washrooms until the bell rings.

 

-

 

Dan skypes Nicole that night. Maybe it’s because he misses her as a person or maybe it’s because so many things during the day had reminded him of her, and he needs to make sure that she’s okay.

 

She is. Okay, that is. Kind of, at least.

 

Her face is pixelated through the thin screen of Dan’s laptop, but he can still see as she smiles at him brightly, “How’re you doing, Dan?” 

 

His stomach flutters. He’s not sure if it’s because this is  _ Nicole,  _ or because she just called him Dan. 

 

He grins, shuffling back on his bed so that he was resting up against the wall, crossing his legs and balancing his laptop on his legs, “I’m good, how are you?” 

 

“Cut the bullcrap,” Nicole’s parting her hair, braiding small chunks of it, “Tell me with more detail, how are you?” 

 

Dan sighs heavily, “I dunno, I guess I’m still just trying to process everything.” 

 

“D’you think that you’ll be happy there… In time?” she asks gently.

 

“Yeah- It’s just all new and weird right now,” he pauses, “It’s definitely a lot different without you here.” 

 

Her eyes are full of understanding as a soft smile lights up her face, “It’s different here, too,” A long pause, then, “I wish you didn’t move.”

 

Dan says, “I miss you too.”

 

“Can I come to visit you? Where do you live?” 

 

Dan’s face falls a bit, “My parents hate you.” 

 

“And I hate them, too,” Nicole says defiantly, “We can go out for coffee or something. Please?” 

 

“I- uh. Yeah, of course,” he falters for a second, then rattles off the address to a coffee shop near his house. 

 

“Next weekend?” Nicole asks, “Like, Saturday?” 

 

“Yeah,” Dan murmurs, “That’ll work.” 

 

They talk for about an hour, about anything and everything. It feels refreshing, like a cold shower on a hot day. 

 

He says, “I love you,” when his mum yells at him from downstairs, telling him to go to sleep. 

 

She says, “Love you too, babe.” 

 

“Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

-

 

It’s cold outside the coffee shop. It reminds him of when he first met Nicole. Except that this time he had brought a huge winter coat, there wasn’t any rain, and he was in Manchester instead of London. 

 

Nichole was supposed to meet him here at 2:00pm and now it was fifteen minutes past that. Then again, when had she ever been early, or on time, for that matter? Besides, he didn’t mind waiting. 

 

Ten minutes later and someone was barreling into him, wrapping their arms around his shoulders and squeezing tightly. Her black hair is as long as ever, her head tucked into his neck. His arms wind their way around her waist, holding her close. 

 

They rock back and forth slowly, neither of them really paying attention to how long they’re there for. 

 

Eventually, Nicole mumbles something that sounds like, “Fuck you, Dan, I missed you so fucking much, you little fuck,” and pulls back. 

 

“I missed you, too,” Dan smiles. 

 

“Of course you did, loser,” she teases, “let's go get something to drink before we freeze.” 

 

Dan holds the door open for her and pays for their drinks after they order. Nicole tells him that he doesn’t have to, but he does anyway. 

 

The window by their seat is so fogged up that they can barely see out of it. Nicole draws a smiley face on it.

 

“So,” she starts, “How’re you doing?” 

 

“Oh my fuck, are you really going to ask me that every time we interact?” Dan snaps, though there is a hint of humour to his voice.

 

“Yes,” she says, “I’m your therapist now. Tell me all your problems and somehow miraculously -through talking -they will disappear,” she mocks. 

 

“Bye-bye depression, anxiety, and crippling dysphoria,” Dan sips at his coffee, “T’was nice knowing you, but I’ve talked enough and now you’re gone.” 

 

“I wish it worked that way,” Nicole says seriously. She hooks her foot around Dan’s ankle.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees. 

 

Nicole grimaces when she takes a big gulp of her hot chocolate, “Fuck, that’s hot,” she swallows it anyway.

 

“Hot like you,” Dan kind-of jokes, winking exaggeratedly. 

 

“Oh, please. Don’t mock me.” 

 

“You love it.” 

 

“No, the only thing I love here is you,” she flirts back easily, trying to keep a straight face. They both end up dissolving into giggles.

 

“I hate you,” Dan gasps out.

 

“You too,” Nicole shoots back. 

 

Dan draws a tree onto the condensation on the windows. Nicole adds fire to its branches. Dan draws a person standing under the tree and Nicole draws the rope around its neck, elongating the trunk of the tree to make it look like the person is being hung. 

 

It takes a long time for Dan to finish his coffee. He says that it’s just because it’s hot, but really, it’s because he wants to draw out his time with Nicole as long as he can. She’s doing the same thing. 

 

An hour passes and they can no longer pretend to have any of their drink left. Nicole has a bus and a train to catch. Dan has to go home before his parents wonder where he is, butut they don’t want to leave. 

 

“You look good,” Nicole’s saying as they leave the coffee shop, “Really masculine. I love it.” 

 

Dan’s cheeks heat up with red, “Thanks,” he stammers awkwardly, “you look good, too.” 

 

“Of course I do,” Nicole flips her hair, then goes serious again. She sighs, “I’m really going to miss you.” 

 

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Dan assures her, opening his arms for a hug.

 

“I love you,” she whispers into his shoulder.

 

“Love you, too,” he tightens his arms around her, “Fuck. I love you so much.” 

 

“I’ll come back. We can do this again, or you can come to London and we can get drunk and do whatever the hell we want…” she rambles. 

 

“You’re going to miss your train,” Dan says, rubbing her back.

 

“I don’t want to leave. Don’t make me leave? I hate it back there,” she bites down on the fabric of Dan’s coat.

 

“You have to go,” he points out. 

 

She’s the one who pulls back, though she keeps her arms wrapped loosely around Dan’s waist. She leans forwards, gently pecking him on the lips. 

 

“Bye, Dan.” 

 

And then, she’s gone. Like the smoke that she likes putting in her lungs. There one second, gone the next. 

 

Dan stands there -dumbstruck -for a good five seconds before he remembers that breathing is a thing that he needs to do in order to survive. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO if you're interested in helping me with the rest of this fic/beta'ing it, you can go here: http://greyscalepml.tumblr.com/post/159179109476/betas-needed  
> as I do need a few betas for this (mainly so that i can stop bugging my friends with weird questions about plot and stuff) 
> 
> also comments are nice so keep those coming <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boop de boop beep

 

 

 

 

 

He’s halfway home already when he hears someone calling his name. He spins around, watching as a tall figure with floppy black hair saunters up to him. 

 

“Phil. Hi.” Dan greets. 

 

“Hi. What’s up?” Phil asks, falling into step beside Dan.

 

“M’just going home.” Dan says. 

 

“Mind if I accompany you?”  

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

-

 

A month has passed and Dan thinks that things might be okay one day. Not now, because his chest still hurts so much that it’s hard to breath properly and nobody at school really pays him any attention, making it hard to answer his parents when they ask about his new ‘friends’ 

 

Phil, being home schooled, brings lunch to Dan nearly everyday, spending the lunch hour together, before Dan has to go back to his classes. It’s a good system, to say the least. 

 

Dan almost feels like he can be more himself around Phil, in a way that he can’t really with anyone else, besides Nicole of course.

 

He talks with Nicole a lot, though less than he probably should. She doesn’t come up to visit him again, but he desperately wants her to. She’s the only person aside from family and doctors and therapists, who knows that Dan’s trans. She knows pretty much everything, it’s comforting. At school, everybody calls him Dan. But they’ve always made remarks about how feminine he looks. I doesn’t help that he’s only just 5’5”. With Nicole however, it was easier. She knew that he wasn’t cis, but that didn’t stop her from being insanely supportive. The fact that she called him handsome a lot was also nice.

 

-

 

Dan throws his bag onto the damp ground, glaring at nobody. It’s lunch and he’s behind the school again, though Phil hasn’t arrived there yet. He takes off his raincoat, laying it down on the ground before sitting down on it. He tilts his head back, letting it bang against the wall behind him. His head feels so heavy and tired. It had been one of  _ those  _ days. One of the days that somehow seemed to suck all his motivation and happiness away. 

 

He couldn’t bring himself to care about anything. Binder too tight? Oh well, it doesn’t really matter. Failed another math test? Too bad, it’s not like it matters anyway. A certain black-haired boy not showing up with his fucking lunch? Well, fuck him. Not like Dan cares in the slightest. Parents wanting something from you that you can’t possibly give them? Best friend/maybe girlfriend/we-don’t-know-it’s-complicated not responding to his texts? Therapists that can’t seem to find out where his issues had originated from? Oh well, in the long run everybody dies and everything is meaningless. 

 

In short, he feels exactly like he used to feel. Broken. Lost. Making problems up for attention? That’s what his mum had said a few years ago, wasn’t it?

 

Maybe he should tell Nicole how he was feeling. Talking to a friend was supposed to help, right? But he’d already texted her twice this morning, and neither text had gotten a reply. Maybe she was finally getting bored of him and his gross moodswings. She had other friends. It’s not like she needed him or anything. 

 

Instead of Nicole, maybe going to his parents. They had helped him when he came out. They had gotten him a binder and paid for therapy and fuck- they’d even moved to a new city. All for him. Didn’t that show that they cared? But then again, weren’t they tired of him by now? Maybe he was just making everything up. Maybe he was just a girl who wanted to have more attention. They’d probably be tired of him by now. Who wouldn’t be?

 

His thoughts are thankfully interrupted by someone sitting down next to him, pressing their sided against his. 

 

“Hi.” Phil greets him, digging in his backpack for lunch. 

 

“My mom made muffins so I stole a bunch of them she might yell at me later because they’re for my aunt who may or may not be coming over later but I’m not sure so it’ll most likely be okay. Or at least I hope it will be. They’re blueberry and chocolate muffins and they taste so good I may have snacked on one or two on the way here but I swear there are tons left I just gotta-” Phil pulls a plastic bag out of his backpack, a few muffins visible through it, “-here, you can have as many as you want my mum made so many of them we have like, enough to feed the whole population of england. Which is a lot of people, but obviously not as much as some countries, y’know? Like China has the biggest population. I’m not sure if we’d be able to feed every chinese person. Or anyone in big countries, really. Like america wouldn’t get any. Or russia. Or canada. There might be enough for Australia but I’m not sure.” 

 

Dan takes a bite out of the muffin that Phil had shoved into his hands. 

 

“How is it?” Phil asks, “is it good? My mum worked really hard on them so they should be good but there might not be as many chocolate chips as there should be because she bought the chocolate chips a few days ago, so i’ve had some time to eat a few. Are there too many blueberries? I really like blueberries but i’m not sure how well it works in muffins to be honest.”

 

“It’s good.” Dan mumbles through a mouthful. He wonders if Nicole has ever eaten muffins this good. Or if she’s ever made muffins for that matter. He slumps against Phil’s body, nibbling at the food that Phil’s shoving into his hands at every chance he gets. 

 

Half an hour later, Dan’s still sitting there, Phil by his side. The bell is making it’s incessant ringing sound, demanding that all the students get up off their lazy asses and go to whichever class they had next.

 

Phil nudges Dan’s side lightly, “You have to go.” 

 

Is it normal to feel this heavy? Like the weight of the entire world is on top of you, making it nearly impossible to move or form coherent words. It’s like his body is so sad that it’s just… shutting down, having lost all motivation to do anything.

 

He wants Nicole to be there because wouldn’t she know what to do? Wouldn’t she hug him and make him tea and lay in bed with him? If it wasn’t too bad, wouldn’t she offer him cigarettes and alcohol, letting him get a feeling of being alive through the addictions. 

 

Phil wasn’t Nicole. Phil just sat there, his side Fully pressed up against Dan’s, worry etched in the creases in his forehead and the dimmed look in his eyes. 

 

Dan’s sorry. He’s sorry that he’s like this. That he can’t move. That he keeps following people around who show their distaste in being around him by ignoring him for days on end. He’s sorry that he might be faking his gender. He’s sorry and he doesn’t want to do this anymore. 

 

Phil doesn’t repeat what he said. He doesn’t tell Dan that he has to go. 

 

Though, later, when Dan still hasn’t said anything or moved more than a slight shuffle, Phil’s the one who pulls him to his feet and walks with him the whole way home.

 

-

 

There’s a sharp pain right by his ribs under his left arm. It hurts to pull the binder up and over his head but he does it anyway. He quickly changes into a baggy sweatshirt, flipping the hood up and stepping over one of the many cardboard boxes that still littered the room to get to his bed. 

 

Philly:  _ Hey kid you still awake? _

 

Dan:  _ Yeah why? _

 

Phil:  _ D’you wanna go for a walk? _

 

Dan:  _ It’s too dark. _

 

Phil:  _ I’ll bring a flashlight. _

 

Phil:  _ Pls Danny. _

 

Phil:  _ I don’t wanna be alone rn. _

 

Dan:  _ Ugh fine where are you? _

 

Phil:  _ In front of your house come outside. _

 

-

 

“How the actual  _ fuck  _ do you know where I live?!” Dan shouts, running down the front steps to Phil’s waiting form.

 

“I walked you home once, you idiot,” Phil smiles a bit, “C’mon.” Phil turns and starts walking in a random direction. 

 

“D’you even know where we’re going?” Dan asks, doing up the zipper on his jumper.

 

“Nope,” Phil replies, “We’re just gonna walk.” 

 

“Nowhere in particular?” Dan inquires.

 

“Yeah.”

 

-

 

Half an hour later, they’re sitting on the only two swings in the small children’s park that weren’t horrendously broken in some way. 

 

“It’s cold.” Dan complains, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso.

 

“Man up, nerd.” Phil teases, though at the same time he’s unzipping his coat and throwing it in the general direction of Dan’s shivering body. 

 

“Why’re we out here, anyway?” Dan asks gently, slipping off the swing to grab Phil’s coat. It was a few sizes too big for him -- because of the fact that Phil was over six feet tall whilst Dan was barely 5’5”. 

 

He pulls it over his shoulders like a cape and sits down on the damp ground next to Phil, leaning against the other boys legs.

 

“I couldn’t stay at home for any longer,” Phil mutters, sliding off the swing and letting Dan lean against his side, “Parents were fighting.” Phil turns a bit to bury his face in Dan’s shoulder. 

 

“This late at night?” Dan brings his hand up to play with Phil’s hair a bit. 

 

“It-” Phil’s voice breaks and he pauses, clearing his throat before trying again, “It’s just… It’s getting worse.” 

 

Dan makes a sympathetic sound somewhere in his throat and properly hugs Phil for the first time, wrapping his arms tightly around Phil’s torso, trying to ignore the way that Phil’s trying to hold back sobs, but eventually just gives up and cries into Dan’s shoulder. 

 

“It’ll be okay,” Dan says, over and over again, “It’ll be okay, Philly.”

 

-

 

The rain makes it harder to slip out of school at lunch. Whilst students are allowed to go wherever they wanted for that hour, it still looked a bit suspicious when someone leaves everyday alone, rain or shine. 

 

He does it anyway. 

 

In the past months, he’s stopped caring about what other people think. 

 

He has made a few friends, though he met them all through Phil. Trevor, Kate and Julius. Julius and Trevor went to the all-boys fancy ass private school, and Kate went to the same school as Dan, though they didn’t talk much there. 

 

“Hey loser,” Phil laughs, “or, should I say, Mr.Hobbit hair.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Dan grumbles, ducking under the slight overhang, throwing Phil a smile when he passes him a chocolate bar.

 

“You love me, really.” Phil gasps in mock exaggeration. 

 

Dan ignores Phil’s words, but a thin blush does spread across his cheeks.

 

-

 

Dan feels bad. Really bad. He wants to drink or get high or self harm. He even goes as far to grab a pair of scissors from a cardboard box that he has yet to fully unpack. The metal is cold against his hands. It’s so welcoming. He wants to do it, so badly. And he could, so easily. He thinks about his parents; would they care? Yes. They were his parents, of course they’d care. They had to, that was their job. Still his mind holds doubts about it.

 

With nothing else, he tries calling Nicole. It’s Saturday, she’d probably be out getting drunk with some friends. He calls her again and again, each time it going to voicemail. Tears are stinging his eyes. He tries calling again, before leaving a text. 

 

She doesn’t respond. 

 

An hour later, when he sends her another text, a little  _ ‘read, 23:00’  _ appears. Hope blossoms in Dan’s chest for a minute. But she doesn’t reply. 

 

Dan’s breathing hard and he gets to the point where the scissors are positioned over his wrist, ready to slash them down. He doesn’t, though. It’s hard and hurts so much, but he doesn’t hurt himself.

 

_ Fuck you, Nicole,  _ he thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment i need


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ://

 

 

 

Another day in front of the mirror, glaring at a reflection that looks way too feminine to be who he really is.

 

It’s not a good day for the dysphoria, he was meant to go hang out at Phil's house with Trevor and Kate, as Julius was away on a school trip to London for the day.

 

Dan considers just texting Phil to tell him that he can’t make it. He didn’t want to be all weird and jumpy, constantly worrying that he looks to feminine. In the end though, he does go to Phil’s house. 

 

-

 

It’s quiet, as Kate and Trevor haven’t come yet. Both Phil and Dan are perfectly happy in the comfortable silence that had draped over the room, Dan curled up on his side on the couch, his head pillowed on Phil’s lap, content with the way that Phil’s fingers are playing with his hair. 

 

Phil only gets up when someone starts banging on the door, accompanied by a loud, “Get up your lazy ass and open the door for your friends!” from Trevor. 

 

-

 

Trevor's loud. Insanely so. His presence is one that makes everyone smile and joke along with him. He holds a type of confidence that Dan’s never really seen in anybody before. He’s not arrogant, just noisy and… well, happy. Dan almost wishes that he could be him. He smokes sometimes and isn’t afraid of getting drunk. He’s some of the worst parts of Nicole, though much less destructive. He’s happy, whilst Nicole was anything but that.

 

Kate, on the other hand, is slightly more reserved. She is still happy and confident, but more quiet about it. She’s the type of person to make you cookies when you feel sad, and then put on a movie and then talk over it the entire time. She likes going to parties on the weekends but somehow manages to keep her grades up at the same time. She’s easily all the best parts of Nicole.

 

Dan can’t help but compare his new friends to his old ones. 

 

Nicole was the most amplified of the bunch, but Dan can see traces of Ally, Josh and Marianna in his new friends as well. 

 

It makes him miss his old friends, makes him miss getting shitfaced and doing stupid things. 

 

-

 

He stays quiet. If Phil notices, he doesn’t acknowledge it in any way. He’s more fixated on Trevor and Kate. 

 

Their happiness and sunlight radiating over Dan’s dull moonlight, making it almost impossible to see him. 

 

-

 

“You okay?” Phil whispers through the darkened room. 

 

Dan had agreed somewhat begrudgingly to stay the night with Phil, mostly because Phil had promised to make chocolate chip pancakes in the morning. But now it’s nighttime and it’s too dark to see anything and Dan thinks that he should have taken off his binder but dysphoria had won, and he left it on. But now it hurts so much to breath that he’s wheezing slightly with every breath. 

 

“Fine.” Dan croaks, shuffling more onto his side of the bed, tugging the blankets with him. 

 

“Hey you’re taking all the blankets.” Phil scolds lightly. 

 

“Sorry,” Dan murmurs ever so quietly. 

 

“It’s okay,” Phil says quickly, rolling onto his side so that he’s closer to Dan, “though can you please tell me what’s wrong.” 

 

Dan stays quiet. As if Phil will just forget about him and go to sleep.

 

“Danny?” Phil whispers. 

 

Dan feels a soft hand bump against his back and then slide up his body to rest on his shoulder, “Danny, c’mon, talk to me.” 

 

“I just wanna sleep.” Dan ends up muttering. 

 

Phil says, “Okay,” and, “we have to talk about this in the morning though.” 

 

Then, Phil crowds even closer to Dan, pressing his chest against Dan’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist and tangling their legs together, “goodnight bear,” he whispers against Dan’s neck.

 

-

 

Dans stomach hurts when he wakes up. He thinks,  _ ‘oh fuck’,  _ and ‘ _ not here for fuck’s sake.’ _

 

Phil’s arms are still secure around Dan’s waist, making it almost impossible to move.

 

He wriggles around a little bit, but Phil just clings tighter.    
  
Dan ends up clearing his voice and horsely whispering, “Phil, wake up.” 

 

It takes a few more tries before Phil actually wakes up, and then he blushes profusely and backs off immediately, rolling back over to the other side of the bed with a soft, ‘sorry.’

 

Dan rushes to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

 

-

 

Phil’s face looks worried. It’s creased over with lines and his eyes are squinted a little bit and his smile is strained. 

 

“Danny are you okay?” He rushes, sitting up straight in bed and holding his arms out, as if asking for a hug. Dan takes a few steps forwards and curls up in Phil’s arms. 

 

“M’fine.” Dan mutters into Phil’s shoulder. Physical contact is good right now.

 

“Can’t you just tell me what’s bothering you?” Phil tries out a soothing tone of voice, rubbing his hands over Dan’s lower back. Dan shivers against the touch. If Phil’s hand goes up, even just a slight amount further, he’d feel the bump of the binders fabric beneath his t-shirt. 

 

If he tells Phil what’s wrong, then Phil will know, and that’s not a step that Dan’s willing to take any time soon. The only person right now that he’d be comfortable with talking to is Nicole. But she’s not here right now. If Dan texted her, he doubts that she’d even answer within the day.

 

Phil says, “Dan,” and “what’s wrong?” And, “you weren’t breathing properly last night,” and, “are you okay? Are you sick?” And, “please tell me, I need to know.” 

 

But what’s Dan supposed to say? That he’s been wearing a binder for way too long, and it’s making it way too hard to breath? That he’s got his period early? Should he tell Phil the reason that his hips are so wide and waist so thin?

 

_ No, no, no, no, no.  _

 

Even if Dan wanted to tell Phil, he doubts that he could. Because Phil’s arms are wrapped around Dan’s torso, holding him gently. Phil has a crease on his forehead, formed with worry for somebody who he only knows one side of. Phil’s the one who brings his food at lunchtime and doesn’t press him to talk when he’s sad, but that’s okay because Dan’s more than comfortable enough to just spend all his time listening to Phil rambling. 

 

Phil’s nothing like Nicole. 

 

If Dan drew a person on a fogged-up coffee shop window with Phil sitting across the table from him, Phil would lean forwards and draw that person a companion, big smiles on both the character’s faces. He’s fill a tree up with flowers and birds instead of fire. 

 

Phil didn’t ask him if he was okay just to start a conversation. Phil would just talk about nothing at all, though all at the same time, somehow making everything seem meaningful and relevant. He’d tell Dan weird jokes and randomly send him blurry pictures of dogs, which had obviously been taken from the window of a car or bus. Phil would sometimes pull a small sketchbook out of his backpack and doodle things down. 

 

And now, on top of everything, Phil was holding him, as if he was scared to let go. Like he was scared that Dan would fade away and disappear if he let him brave the world on his own.

 

His body feels nothing like Nicole’s. Nicole is full of sharp angular lines. Her lips are usually painted over with black. Her tits are small, something that Dan had always been jealous of. Her eyes are big and fawn-like. She looks sad or mad a lot of the time, though that more often than not faded whilst Dan was around her. 

 

Phil’s body, pressed against Dan’s, is so,  _ so  _ different. Everything’s soft. His clothes, his skin, his shoulder, which Dan’s head is buried in. If he looked up, Phil’s lips would be warm and pink and inviting. There’d be a handful of freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones. His eyes shine with ease, blue with flecks of green and yellow. He’s tall. Just over 6’. Nicole barely reached 5’10.

 

Phil leans back until he’s laying across his bed, pulling Dan down with him until the smaller boy is curled up against his side, using Phil’s shoulder as some sort of pillow.

 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Phil’s whispering, though there’s not really any real reason to be quiet, “but if there’s anything that I can do to help… I know that sounds lame but  _ really,  _ I want you to be happy, Danny.” 

 

A moment passes before Dan replies, “I want to be happy, too.” 

 

Phil runs his fingertips up and down the side of Dan’s arm, “So, is there anything that I can do?” 

 

Dan sighs heavily. Fuck, it really hurts, “No. I- I need to do this on my own.” 

 

“It’s nothing too bad, is it?” Phil’s voice is laced through with worry.

 

“No. I’m fine,” Dan’s breaths are short and shallow. No wonder Phil’s worried, he can feel the short pulls of warm air washing over his neck. He can tell how strained they are. 

 

“But… You will come to me, right? If it gets too bad?” Phil tilts his head down a little bit to press his face into Dan’s curly hair. 

 

There’s a moment of silence as Dan’s weighing the possibilities, wondering if it’s worth it to lie, or if he’d even have to lie. “Yes.” Maybe he would go to Phil, if it ever got too bad. But it wasn’t right now. Right? He was probably just hormonal from being on his period and tired from barely getting any sleep and uneasy because of the dysphoria.

 

Phil pulls at Dan’s waist a bit, tugging him up so that he was eyelevel with Phil.

 

His eyes flicker down to Phil’s lips then back to his eyes, being hyper-aware of Phil’s arms around his slim waist. 

 

The crease that had been on Phil’s forehead isn’t there anymore. His porcelain skin is soft and free of worry for the boy he holds in his arms. Phil’s breath catches in his throat when Dan moves his head centimeters close, his eyes flitting over Phil’s face, as if drinking in the other boy’s beauty. 

 

There’s butterflies fluttering somewhere in Dan’s stomach. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t know what he’s  _ thinking.  _

 

Angular dark lips in his mind are quickly being overshadowed by soft pink ones from a boy with bright eyes instead of a girl with dull grey eyes and sunken cheeks. 

 

Dan wonders what Phil would taste like, if either of them closed the admittedly quite small gap between their lips. Would Phil’s mouth be chaste and taste of summers spend in fields of daisies, or would it be long, like days spent inside watching shitty T.V. on the couch, rain pounding against the thin windows. Would he remind Dan of smoke, like that one guy that he had made out with at a party ages ago. Would his mouth feel familiar? Would it be weird? Awkward? Or would it feel perfect? 

 

Dan tentatively brings one of his hands up, trailing his fingers against Phil’s cheek. 

 

Silence lapses over them. It’s full of tension, every movement seeming huge. Dan’s heart thuds against his chest, his blood rushing through his veins. 

 

Phil’s hands are still on his waist, keeping still as Dan runs his hands all over Phil’s body. He finds that his thumb fits perfectly in the little indentation between Phil’s bottom lip and his chin. And when he pulls his thumb down a bit, his bottom lip peels back from his top lip, his mouth opening slightly. 

 

Dan finds that his cheekbones are much more prominent than they look, the bone of which was a hard contrast from the smoothness of Phil’s cheek. 

 

Dan runs his fingers over Phil’s fringe, tucking it behind his ear, then going down, down, down to Phil’s chest, though the thin shirt that he wore. He found that Phil’s hips were wide, though his waist wasn’t thin, giving him a very masculine frame. Dan doesn’t have the confidence to push his hands up underneath Phil’s shirt, but he’s sure that Phil would let him. 

 

He trails his fingertips over Phil’s arm, following the shoulder to the collarbone, then up to Phil’s neck, feeling Phil’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He moves his hand to Phil’s jawline and cheek, almost caressing the other boy. 

 

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Phil when Dan stops there, gently rubbing his thumb over Phil’s skin, though keeping his hand still. He’s awed at how Phil looks. How he feels, like he’s unbreakable. Dan’s stomach feels warm, though still uncomfortable, but not like it had been before. 

 

Phil’s fingers twitch slightly against Dan’s waist. He goes as far to slide his hands down to Dan’s  hips, which unbeknownst to Phil, made Dan feel uncomfortable, but he kept a straight face, trying to push the dysphoria down. If Phil’s hands went right from his waist to hips, he must have felt the huge contrast between the two. If Phil did, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. 

 

The atmosphere is still tense, though now it’s sliced through with something else. Dan can’t tell what it is. It feels warm, not uncomfortably hot or cold. It feels comfortable, not uneasy. Needless to say, Dan never wanted to move. 

 

Phil’s hands curve around to the small of Dan’s back, slowly pulling him closer, giving Dan time to pull back if he wanted to do so. 

 

Dan’s breath hitches in his throat and his mind is thinking about everything at once. Nicole, Phil, Phil, Nicole. Sad, Happy, Happy, Sad. Trans, Cis, Cis, Trans. Left and right, right and wrong. Living, surviving, life, death. Dan wants his mind to shut the hell up but he can’t make it. His thumb stops circling around the base of Phil’s cheek, and his eyes are clouded with worry. 

 

But all at the same time, there are dozens of butterflies in his stomach, all fluttering around. 

 

Phil’s moving his hands up to Dan’s face, pressing them right in front of Dan’s ears, forcing his head to stay still. His hands are soft and warm. 

 

Dan’s uncomfortable on his side. It’s too hard to touch Phil, he can’t get his hands on him enough. He tries to ignore his irrational thoughts, focussing instead on Phil. 

 

He can do this, this is fine, Phil likes him, right? 

 

Dan shifts, pressing his entire body against Phil’s for a split second before pushing Phil onto his back and rolling onto him, nudging his face into Phil’s shoulder and tangling their legs together, feeling Phil’s hands come up to gently grip at Dan’s hips again. 

 

Dan can hear Phil’s heart, can hear the blood rushing through both their veins. 

 

He’s so close. If he lifts his head up a bit and moves his body further up Phil’s then all he had to do was dip down slightly and press their chapped lips together. He’s so close, it would be so easy. The butterflies and the warmth coupled with their hearts, pounding in unison, all proved that it wouldn’t be a  _ bad  _ thing necessarily. 

 

Except that now, Dan was on his period and in general was just a hormonal mess. Besides, he still can’t stop fucking thinking about a certain black-haired girl. 

 

So, no, Dan doesn’t do what he wants to do. Instead, he lays on Phil’s chest for a good half hour before Phil starts complaining about Dan being ‘too damn heavy’ to act like some sort of kitten, all curled up on Phil’s chest. 

 

Dan rests back beside Phil, not finding any will to try and get up and go home. His head stays rested on Phil’s shoulder. He feels a bit cold, the warmth that had taken over them not that long ago had disappeared. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooo when you start questioning ur gender bc ur writing a trans fic :))))) 
> 
> (comments are nice)


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

As soon as Dan gets home, he strips off all of his clothes and stumbles sleepily into the shower, turning the water on so hot that it almost burns his skin, but he pushes the feeling of discomfort away, slipping down into a sitting position, feeling the water wash over his broken and battered body, shooting pain to the bruises around his ribs as well as the thin white scars scattered all over his body, though the pain from those was more phantom-like. Just a shadow of how much they had hurt before. 

 

-

 

Dan’s awake before the sun is up. It’s tuesday, three days after he’d spent the night with Phil. The morning’s slightly dewy air swirls around his face, causing a smile to crack through his lips. He’s sitting on his windowsill, watching as the sun rises just after the birds have started screaming their morning call. 

 

-

 

He gets dressed and is in the kitchen, muddling his way through how to make pancakes before his mum is awake. Usually she’s the one to do this. But she’s sleeping in or something so Dan’s in the kitchen trying to figure out how to actually  _ cook  _ food. 

 

His mum always made it look so easy, cracking an egg in one hand whilst stirring something in another bowl with the other. Dan, meanwhile, had spent the last ten minutes on his phone trying to find a good recipe and then the  _ next  _ ten minutes trying to find the goddamn mixing bowls. 

 

In the end he settled on just using one of the fancy glass salad bowls that Dan’s parents had been given when they got married. 

 

He reads through the ingredient list easily enough, but then couldn’t find the actual ingredients, and when he  _ did,  _ he forgot to scroll down to read the instructions and just ended up dumping everything in and hoping for the best.

 

He dug around in the drawers, trying to find a whisk or mixing spoon of some sort. Apparently his mum had hid those, too, so he grabbed a fork and tried not to think about how he’d never really cooked anything successful in the past. 

 

Dan gives himself a high-five after he’s done mixing everything together. So far, it looks alright. He turns on the stove, slamming a pan down, and pouring a good amount of the mixture onto the hot surface. 

 

Three minutes later, the smoke alarm is going off, Dan’s mum is running into the kitchen with a worried look on her face and Dan is standing, confused, in front of a pancake that isn’t even done cooking yet. 

 

“I don’t know what went wrong.” He says as his dad is flapping a towel in front of the smoke alarm to try and get all the smoke away so that it would shut up, his mum is opening the big window in the kitchen and using a knife to scrape the pancake off the pan and into the garbage. 

 

He eats cereal for breakfast. 

 

-

 

By the time that the lunch bell rings, Dan wants to die. Not literally, this time at least. No, it’s more of a ‘ _ oh my fucking shitbitch god if I get one more assignment for homework I will actually take this pen that I’m using and shove it right into my eye, just watch me, I’ll fucking do it binch. _ ’ 

 

He almost runs out of the school building at lunch time, ignoring the few strange looks that people were shooting in his direction. It’s not like they mattered anyway.

 

Phil’s sitting on the dusty patch of dirt, a book in his hand and a smile on his face when he turns to face Dan, alerted of his presence by the smaller boy’s footsteps.

 

“I brought muffins again,” Phil says, in lieu of a greeting, shuffling over a bit to the left to make room for Dan.

 

“Thank fuck,” Dan mumbles, leaning over Phil’s shoulder as he digs through his bag to find them. 

 

“How’s school?” Phil asks, passing Dan a muffin. 

 

“It’s actually the worst thing in all existence,” Dan says, through a mouthful of food.

 

Phil hums sympathetically, as his mouth is too full to really say anything. 

 

“It’s like- they’re  _ actually  _ trying to drive us towards death.” Dan, having finished his muffin in a few bites reaches over to Phil’s and rips a chunk of it off, continuing to talk through a mouthful of food, crumbs landing on his lap, “Like, I don’t actually  _ like  _ doing school but at least it’s something to do, y’know? But like when they actually just- Okay so. It’s like they’re shoving their dick down your throat but it’s too big and too fast and you can’t jerk your head backwards and it’s not actually a dick it’s actually school work and you’re just this sad lonely kid trying to learn and now you’ve got an actual fucking dick, like obviously not an  _ actual  _ dick but-... yeah.” 

 

“You say ‘actually’ a lot when you’re ranting,” Phil comments, moving a bit closer to Dan so that he can rest his head on his shoulder if he wants. 

 

“I’m sorry-” 

 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Phil giggles, “It’s nice hearing you talk. I like your voice.” 

 

Dan says, “Oh,” quietly. Next to his appearance, his voice is the thing that he's the most insecure about. It’s nice hearing someone compliment it. 

 

-

 

He invited Phil to his house. Not even intentionally, it just sorta slipped out before he thought about what he was really saying. They’d just been texting, and then Phil had complained about how his parents were arguing and how he wished that he didn’t have to be in the house whilst they were doing that, and then Dan, unthinkingly, had simply said;  _ “Come over here then.”  _

 

Except that now, Phil was going to be there in fifteen minutes  _ tops  _ and Dan hadn’t showered in three days, had no idea where his binder was, and was laying in bed in his underwear covered in various crumbs and candy wrappers with his laptop balanced on his knees, having been watching netflix. 

 

His room was a mess. There were still cardboard boxes everywhere. His window was open because he liked the cold but he knew that Phil liked to be all warm and cozy and  _ oh, fuck,  _ what were his parents going to say and _shit_ were they even okay with it?

 

A shower first. Then find the binder. And clean clothes. 

 

-

 

Dan thinks he has more time, and really; the water’s pleasantly warm, making it hard to convince himself to get out. That is, until he hears the doorbell ring. Then, he panics. He’s out of the shower in a heartbeat,  trying in vain to hear what his mum is saying to the person at the door - to Phil. 

 

“MUM!!” Dan shouts down the stairs, a towel wrapped haphazardly around his body. 

 

“Hi Dan!” He hears Phil’s voice. 

 

Then, “Yes,  _ Daniel? _ ” From his mother.

 

“I-... Um.” Dan stumbles his way through a sentance, “I- I just got out of the shower s-so-.... Can you keep Phil entertained for like-... just a minute I need to…” He lets himself trail off, trusting his mum to get the jist of what he’s trying to say. 

 

-

 

He manages to find his binder (It was under the bed, behind a bunch of boxes, wedges between a book and the wall)  _ and  _ make his bed (not very well, he just pulled the duvet over the mess and hoped that it was good enough) in only a few minutes, as well as put on some relatively clean sweatpants, his binder and a sweatshirt on top of that. 

 

He looks at himself nervously in the mirror before going down stairs to rescue Phil from his mother’s ability to have small talk for hours. 

 

-

 

Phil looks around Dan’s room as if he’s in awe of it. It’s not much, in Dan’s opinion, but judging by the looks that Phil’s giving everything, it must look much better to him. Dan closes the door behind them, taking a few steps forwards to flop down on the kind of clean bed, shuffling up so that he can rest his head on a pillow. He pats the space beside him, a wordless invitation for Phil. 

 

Phil lays down immediately, staying on his back, staring at the glow-in the dark stars that Dan had stuck to his ceiling just yesterday. Though now, with the lights still on, they were more of just greeny-yellow stars, but still. 

 

“How bad is it?” Dan asks, referring to Phil’s parents. 

 

The smile visibly drops off Phil’s face, “Bad.” He states simply, swallowing his emotions. 

 

Dan nudges himself a bit closer, “You okay?” 

 

“No.” His voice lacks… everything, pretty much. Like he’s empty, guarding himself from being mad or sad by forcing himself to feel nothingness, instead.

 

Dan doesn’t reply. He’s always been so shit at comforting friends. He sighs heavily. 

 

Phil does that sniffly thing that you do when you’re desperately trying not to cry, but are kind of failing, and rolls over, facing away from Dan. Dan, for lack of anything better to do, rolls with him, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist and pulling him back so that he is flush with Dan’s body. 

 

“I don’t think that spooning is the solution to this, Danny.” Phil manages a watery giggle. 

 

“Shut up and let me cuddle you.” Dan snaps, his breath wafting over Phil’s neck. 

 

“I hate you,” Phil grumbles, though he doesn’t push Dan away. 

 

It’s several minutes later when Phil talks next, and his voice is looser, less strained somehow. Maybe cuddles had been the solution. “If they’re not happy together then why don’t they just break up?” Phil puts his hands over top of Dan’s, lacing their fingers together, “I just don’t get why they’d still want to be with each other if they don’t love each other anymore. All the time that they spend together, they’re fighting… It’s gotten so bad. And I just- I don’t know? It’s annoying, and it hurts a lot.” 

 

He rolls in Dan’s arms so that they’re facing each other, mouths inches apart. Though it’s not like either of them are paying any attention to that at all. 

 

“It’ll be alright,” Dan says lamely. His eyes are flickering between Phil’s eyes and his lips. 

 

“What’s even the meaning of ‘alright’ anymore?” Phil questions. It’s not something that he really wants an answer to. “I just want - a distraction. Away from everything.”

 

A smirk works it’s way onto Dan’s face, “distraction, huh?” That's something that he can do.

 

“Yeah…” Phil moves an inch closer to Dan. Their breaths are mixing. The butterflies are back, in both of their stomach’s. 

 

But this time, there’s no pulling back. No hesitation. 

 

Dan crashes his mouth against Phil’s, essentially just smushing their faces together. Teeth clang and noses hurt. Phil pulls away with a laugh, a thin red blush across his cheeks, “thought you’d be better at kissing.” 

 

“Shut up,” Dan’s face is red with embarrassment. 

 

Phil cocks an eyebrow, “make me.” 

 

In one fluid motion, Dan both pushes Phil onto his back and scrambles onto his lap, leaning over Phil, his arms framing Phil’s face. 

 

His lips are almost touching Phil’s, though there’s a bit of a gap. Phil’s pupils are huge, Dan can see his reflection in them. Their faces are flushed with red and Phil’s hands are coming up to grip at Dan’s slim waist. 

 

_ That’s  _ when Dan kisses him. Soft and slow, their lips both gentle and pliant. Phil sighs into Dan’s mouth, moving his hands down to Dan’s thighs so that he could pull them apart a bit, making Dan straddle him. It’s not heated and wet, more chaste and soft. So different from everything that Dan had experienced in the past, which were hard and needy and desperate.

 

Though now, he’s kissing Phil because he wants to, not because he feels like he needs to.

 

He gasps into Phil’s mouth when Phil swipes his tongue over Dan’s lower lip, causing his lips to part even more, granting Phil access.  

 

Phil hums, sucking lightly on Dan’s tongue. It’s clear the he wants it to get more heated, by the way that his fingernails are digging into Dan’s hips and his body is warm and wanting something  _ more.  _ Something that Dan can’t give to him. The familiar feeling of dysphoria replaces the butterflies in his stomach when Phil’s hands move to go under Dan’s shirt. 

 

_ That’s  _ when Dan pulls away, a thin string of spit connecting their mouths. Dan grabs Phil’s wrists in his hands before they go up his shirt, and pins them to the bed above Phil’s head. Phil wriggles underneath him, wanting to get on top. He starts protesting weakly but Dan cuts him off by covering Phil’s lips with his own, being careful to keep it light. 

 

He crawls off of Phil some time later, flopping down on the bed beside him with a triumphant, “I’m a good kisser, you asshole.” 

 

Phil can’t protest this fact because his pupils are blown wide and his lips are all red and swollen and his cheeks are flushed and voice is  _ wrecked _ , “I guess you are, Danny.” 

 

Dan fights his brain, trying to tell himself to stop thinking of Nichole. But he can’t help but wonder if her lips would taste the same as Phil’s did - like honey and happiness and starlight. He thinks that she’d taste more like drugs and cheap liquor and other people’s mouths. He doesn’t want to think about it. But something inside his head is causing it to resurface, over and over again, whenever what he wants most is to simply  _ forget.  _

 

-

 

Phil loops his arms around Dan’s waist and pulls him close, so that their chests are pressed together. Phil tilts his head up to press a chaste kiss to Dan’s forehead. 

 

“Go away, I’m trying to sleep,” Dan yawns, though a smile is sneaking its way onto his face. 

 

“You love it.” Phil kisses his cheek this time. 

 

“Fuck off,” Dan scoffs, but all the same, he tilts his head forwards to kiss Phil’s lips. 

 

“You’re literally the anime stereotype of a tsundere,” Phil giggles. 

 

Dan huffs, frowning, “No I’m not.” He shuffles away, rolling over and burying his head into one of his pillows. 

 

Phil waits a few minutes before starting to talk again; “Hey Dan.” A pause, waiting for Dan to reply. 

 

“Phil.” Dan’s voice is a bit raspy. Like he really  _ was  _ about to fall asleep. 

 

“I wanted to ask you something.” There’s a hint of seriousness in his voice. Dan rolls over to face him.

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Can we um-...” Phil’s suddenly shy, a blush finding it’s way onto his cheeks. “I- so like, I-I don’t-... Um.”

 

“Spit it out, loser,” Dan mutters, the words not necessarily the kindest, but his voice is so full of fondness that it easily makes up for that.

 

“Um. I was just- wondering. If… you’d maybe wanna try dating me?” He rushes the last bit, hearing Dan’s sharp intake of breath. 

 

“Really?” Dan’s voice is still tired, though there’s something else in it now, too.

 

“Yeah I- um. Yes.” Phil’s blushing so much. Dan didn’t know that anyone had the ability to make their face go that red.

 

“I’m a mess Phil, why would you want me?” Dan brings a hand up to Phil’s cheek, cupping it gently. 

 

“Just answer the question, Danny.” Phil says, turning his head and pressing a kiss to the palm of Dan’s hand. 

 

“I don’t know.” Dan replies honestly. “Really, I’m just too tired to think straight right now… can we like, talk about this in the morning, please?” 

 

“Yeah, of course.” Phil tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but Dan still catches it. Dan sighs, though it’s because of the exhaustion more than anything. He presses himself closer to Phil, cuddling into his chest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment i really love reading them <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls read notes at the bottom xx

 

 

 

 

Dan’s hands shake slightly as he struggles to breathe, slipping out of Phil’s arms and practically running out to the bathroom, pulling his shirt off and then his binder, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and letting his head fall into his hands. He holds his breath until he’s forced to breath properly, a little whimper escaping past his lips. 

 

He stands up in order to look at his body in the mirror. 

 

There’s bruises all along his ribs, huge red marks where the binder cut into his skin along the edges, and  _ fuck  _ it hurts. A lot.

 

He runs a trembling hand through his hair, pushing it back up into a quiff.

 

He can’t put it back on. It hurts too much and he can’t really breath with it on.

 

But Phil’s in his bed. Phil who he kissed. Phil who cuddles up to Dan in his sleep and holds him tightly, like he’ll somehow be able to make the badness fade away.

 

He ends up leaving the binder in a crumpled heap on the ground by the bathtub, his hands shaking slightly as he puts the baggy sweatshirt back on. It really, really doesn’t seem flat enough. He hates it. But at this point, there's really no alternative.

He creeps back to his room silently, slipping under the duvet and staying as far away from Phil - like Dan was a tinted glass sculpture, looking solid from a distance, but the closer you got, the more aware you become of how transparent and flawed the work of art really is.

 

-

 

Phil’s not a quiet sleeper. He’s the type of person that drools onto your pillow and accidently steals all the blankets, or rolls over on top of you, or, in some cases, just plain falls out of the bed. 

 

Being as it is, Dan’s not surprised in the slightest when Phil’s arm is slung around his waist. Not surprised, yes, but still uncomfortable. He felt like Phil was too close. He felt like he was lying there naked, all his flaws showing. Though Dan doesn’t actually  _ move  _ until Phil shuffles closer, like he’s going to put his head on Dan’s chest. He easily slips out from Phil’s loose grip, moving to the foot of the bed and sitting there, the tips of his toes barely touching the ground because he’s too short to lay his feet flat on the ground.

 

He lets his elbows rest on his knees and holds his head in his hands, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers against his eyelids until he saw dark red. 

 

He didn’t feel  _ right.  _ He almost wants Phil to wake up so that he could distract Dan from his thoughts, but one glance at the snoring boy in his bed sent that thought flying away. He looked so pure, so peaceful and happy. 

 

Whilst Dan was a complete mess. 

 

Even though the binder’s off, Dan’s chest feels too tight to breath properly. Almost like his lungs are finally collapsing in on themselves. They weren’t, of course. But that didn’t stop the feeling of dread somewhere in his chest, holding him down, making it so,  _ so  _ hard to feel real happiness.

 

His hands move down from his face to his neck, pinching at the loose skin, just under his law line. He tries telling himself that the tiny red marks and stinging sensation that this causes doesn’t count as self harm. In a way it still does.

 

Almost unconsciously, he stands, making his way across his room and over to the window, throwing it open and then climbing up so that he could sit on the windowsill, his legs dangling out into the night’s cold air.

 

He sighs heavily, leaning forwards. If he leant forward anymore, he would surely fall, down, down, down, and then, splat. Flat like a pancake. Brains bashed in against the hard ground. Broken bones and a twisted neck. Could he? Should he? 

 

He sits back up straight. In the end, there’s really no point. Life goes on, may as well try your best to enjoy it-- however impossible that may seem. 

 

There’s a thick cloud cover, making it impossible to see the stars. 

 

Dan leans against the side of the window and watches as the sun rises.

 

-

 

Phil’s all groggy and his voice is raspy when he wakes up. He sits up, early-morning confusion written across his features in the way his eyes squint slightly and his brow furrows. His eyes clear and his features are immediately showing alertness when his eyes catch on Dan’s frame, sitting in the window, practically falling out of it. He couldn’t even tell if Dan was awake or not. 

 

Cautiously, Phil calls to the other boy; “Danny?” 

 

Dan spins around, his face breaking into a smile when his eyes land on Phil. 

 

“You’re a horrible sleeper.” He informed him, slipping down from the window and, thought to Phil he looked a bit self-conscious, sat on the edge of the bed with an air of confidence.

 

“G’morning to you, too.” Phil says, his voice still overridden by sleep. “C’mere.” He holds his arms out to Dan, motioning that he should come closer.

 

“Morning.” Dan hesitates. For a bit too long. Dejected, Phil pulls his arms back, frowning slightly at Dan. 

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

 

“Nothing,” Dan lies.

 

There’s a few moments of quiet before Phil speaks again; “...So, did you sleep well?” 

 

Dan nods, uncomfortably crossing his arms over his chest, trying to hide his flaws from Phil. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Phil asks again.

 

The dysphoria. Well, that, coupled with the exhaustion. It made him all moody and weird. He hated it, but he was too scared that if he came any closer to Phil, then Phil could somehow see through Dan’s sweatshirt and tell that he’s not cis. So Dan stays where he is, awkwardly perched on the edge of the bed, nearly as far away from Phil as he can get, like a bird about to take flight. Dan sighs. Thinking about it is really not helping.

 

“Did last night even happen?” Phil’s voice is so small, barely above a whisper, almost like he hadn’t been trying to speak out loud at all.

 

The kiss. It makes Dan sigh again. It’s too early for this kind of stuff. 

 

“Of course it happened, you nerd.” Dan glances at Phil. 

 

“Then why’re you acting like this? Do you regret it or something?” Phil crawls out from under the blankets, sitting down beside Dan, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the bed. His feet lay flat against the ground whilst the tips of Dan’s toes barely reached the carpet. It made Dan feel sick, like his size was just pushing what little masculinity he has left away. 

 

“I don’t regret it.” Dan mutters, though his tone of voice and body language say otherwise. 

 

“Then what’s bothering you?” Phil leans a bit closer, looping an arm around Dan’s shoulders and tugging him closer. “Talk to me.” 

 

“I can’t talk to you about what’s bothering me,” Dan laughs, “I’m just a mess, Phil. Ignore me and my horrid mood swings.” 

 

“Are you okay though?” Phil has genuine care and concern in his voice.

 

“Jesus, Phil, I’m not made of glass stop asking me if i’m going to break - I’m not going to break! I’m fine! I feel great! I love myself so fucking much!” He’s borderline manic at this point, hurriedly running a hand across his eyes to wipe the tears away before they really start rolling down his cheeks. 

 

He feels heavy again, those damn bricks tied to his legs and his stomach, making it so hard to  _ feel.  _ He hates his personality when he gets like this - it’s bad enough on his own, but when he’s around people, it just gets so much worse. If he were to go to Nicole now, and tell her that he’s feeling this way, she’d get some cheap booze and find a party so that he could drink his feelings away and then get fucked into a mattress by some guy that he barely knew. 

 

That was the cheap fix, the easy fix. He could blame everything on drunkenness, ignoring that it wasn’t the drinks that were fucking him up, it was the feeling that drove him to drink in the first place. 

 

One glance in Phil’s direction makes Dan feel even worse, if that’s possible. Phil, ever so kind and considerate, now looks scared and sad and worried. Dan would do anything to wipe that crease away that had formed on Phil’s forehead.

 

Dan leans into Phil slightly, “don’t worry, you haven’t done anything wrong.” And Phil turns his head a bit so that he can press a small  kiss to the top of Dan’s head. 

 

“Promise me you’ll be okay?” 

 

Dan answers without hesitation, “I’ll be fine.” 

 

-

 

It was not fine. Dan had excused himself to the bathroom, trying his hardest to get his binder back on but he couldn’t fucking do it. His shoulders and back hurt so much. 

 

He gives up when tears sting his eyes, mentally telling himself that it would be fine for the day, that his tits weren’t big enough to see as long as he put on a baggy sweatshirt. 

 

Phil’s sitting the bed, back pressed against the headboard, his head bent, looking down at his phone, though he snaps up when Dan closes the door behind him, effectively turning the atmosphere into one much tenser than it had been before. 

 

What had Phil said the previous night? That he wanted to talk about what had happened? 

 

Dan didn’t want to have to go through that. Did Phil really want to date him? Would he still want to date him, if he knew who Dan really was? Who he really  _ is _ ? 

 

Because Phil’s different. He’s not like all the other pointless fucks at parties. He’s so much  _  more  _ because he has pretty blue eyes and a mouth that tastes like strawberries and stardust, instead of liquor and desperation. He’s not even trying to think of his past, but it creeps up on him none the less, forcing him to relive past memories. 

 

-

 

Loud. Voices filtered out by some pounding music, accompanied by lyrics that have no relevance to anything. 

 

Bodies. People bumping into him, drinks spilling, a stained carpet and couples sprawled across couches, their mouths connected wet and messy, their hands nowhere to be seen. 

 

Liquid. Alcohol, a blurry vision and a smile that’s too big to be genuine. Feet stumbling up the stairs and a loud giggle from one of the rooms to his right. 

 

Another person bumping into him, another apology tumbling past his lips and a smile tugging at the corners of his face, changing him into something that he’s not. It smells worse upstairs. Sweat and sex and heat and booze. 

 

Memories of something push at the borders of his mind but they don’t mean anything as he pours what little is left from his cup down his throat. He winces at the burn. Hard liquor had really never been his style. 

 

But this was a new him, a different him. Someone whom he wasn’t, or rather just the person who he desperately wished he was. Someone better, stronger,  _ tougher.  _ Someone who wasn’t broken like he was. 

 

Another person bumping into him and his vision is so blurry that he barely recognized the person getting all up into his face, “Watch where you’re going you fucking idiot!” 

 

_ That’s  _ when he stumbled backwards into another person, who glared at the shitfaced boy before sauntering off, a girl hanging off his arm. 

 

“Go home!” Someone else shouted, their voice way to slurred to be directed at him. 

 

The party had been Nicole’s idea. And now she was nowhere to be found. She could be in one of the bedrooms, being fucked into oblivion by some guy. Or, in one of the bathrooms, snorting cheap cocaine off mirrors. Perhaps she was just in the kitchen, on the floor, covered in her own vomit, too drunk to move. Or maybe she left without him. Alternatively, she could be looking for him. But really, he doesn’t think so. She’s just not that kind of person. 

 

When someone crowds him up against the wall by the top of the stairs, their eyes rimmed with red and their drunken breath washing over his face, Dan’s conscious enough to press his hands against the guy’s hips, raising an eyebrow and pulling him closer. 

 

Something feels wrong but all that matters to him right now is that Nicole isn’t here when she should be and he just wanted to forget everything - wasn’t that the reason that he’d come here in the first place?

 

-

 

“Dan?” Phil’s voice is right in his ear, real and in front of him, his hands lightly on Dan’s hips. So light and gentle that Dan can barely feel them. “You okay, Danny?” 

 

Dan lets out a long breath, slumping forewards against Phil’s chest. “I’m a fucking mess.” He hisses, more mad at himself than anything else. 

 

“That’s fine.” Phil says, “Everybody’s a mess sometimes. At least you’re a cute mess.” 

 

“Shut up.” Dan laughs, pulling back just enough to punch Phil’s shoulder gently. 

 

But Phil just rolls his eyes and pulls Dan close again, “I guess I’ll just have to hug you until you feel better.” Dan wedges his hands between Phil’s chest and his own body, pushing him back quickly before Phil realized how definitely not-flat his chest is. 

 

Dan kisses Phil’s cheek lightly to make the hurt look leave Phil’s face. There’s an uncomfortable feeling somewhere in his stomach that’s telling him that Phil will find out, but he does his best to ignore it. 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lol u dont have to read this but yEA thought i'd get it down anyway incase y'all want 'regular updates' or whatever (lmao ur never gonna get regular updates from me)
> 
> dasykguefhk anYWAY HERE IT GOES;
> 
> like dan in this story, i am a /complete/ mess. im literally failing school because of how shit the school program is, coupled with my procrastination/anxiety it's vv difficult for me to get anything done which means that my parents are always pissed at me for bein lazy and attention seeking. . , , ,., in addition to that, i have been forced to get a job which is causing me great amounts of stress. As well as those things, i have entered the pbb /and/ am still working on my other chaptered fic which takes up, ,,., ., all of my time. 
> 
> tldr; im v stressed & am on the verge of a mental breakdown (yet again) so chapters from now on will be shorter/probs not as often. 
> 
> im sorry i really am but im just trying to keep myself as mentally healthy as possible rn <3  
> -cas


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres a surprise chapter. 
> 
> ***TW*** this chapter contains LOTS of VERY DESCRIPTIVE selfharm. Please DO NOT read it if you are sensitive to this!!! (adrien that means that u cant read this)

 

 

 

 

There’s something about the atmosphere around Dan’s house that makes his skin crawl. Maybe it’s the way that his mum watches him with prying eyes. Or perhaps it’s the lack of family pictures on the walls. It could be the low whispers that he can hear through the walls late at night. It might even be the odd family relative that still refers to him as ‘Yazi’.

 

Whatever the reason was, he was uncomfortable and frankly quite anxious. The anxiety is what sends him outside late at night in nothing more than his pajamas, alternating between staring up at the night sky and sitting on the swings in the park. 

 

This particular night it’s the stars that have caught his attention, calling his gaze up to the sky so that he doesn’t have to suffer through  everything that is happening on earth.

 

His runs his fingers over his forearm, grimacing when he’s met with the ghosts of scars. It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting it. More like he wished that they’d just go away.  _ Battle scars, yeah right. More like ugly scars left over from being too weak.  _

 

-

 

Nearly a year ago, on the bathroom floor of Nicole’s house, his whole body hurting.

 

His back is pressed against the door, not letting Nicole in, despite how hard she was knocking. He doesn’t know where her parents are, but wherever they are, it’s not here. 

 

Nicole had been drinking. As usual. Maybe that’s why she didn’t realize what triggered Dan. Or maybe, she didn’t care. Though Dan thought it was the first one. It had to be, because if anybody cared about him, it would be Nicole, right? 

 

His current state of mind suggested otherwise, screaming at the already-broken human and telling it to destroy itself in what may be the worst way possible. 

 

There’s already too many scars to count. All faded and white, or bright red, having been made recently. 

 

The thing about Nicole’s house is that it’s a relatively safe place, if you ignored the copious amount of alcohol that were stored away in the fridge. The knives were kept high up in cupboards, razors tucked away under the sink, nothing very easily accessible. 

 

But the thing about  _ Dan  _ was that when he wanted or  _ needed  _ to hurt himself, not much would stop him from doing so. His fingernails were long. He could bite the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood on his tongue. 

 

This time it was the razor. It’s surprising, really, how easy they are to disable until all you’re holding is thin metal blades. His hands has slipped a few times, resulting in a copious amount of accidental cuts on his hands. He tries to steady himself, tracing the veins in his forearm without pressing down hard enough to draw blood, Nicole’s slurred screams in his ears. 

 

Everything was too much. 

 

Too much hurt, too much pain, too much emotion. 

 

_ Too much.  _

 

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ do something stupid Yaz!” 

 

“Please, babe, get out of there we should - we should  _ talk _ !” 

 

Nicole’s voice, as panicked as it is now, really isn’t helping in the slightest. It’s simply making everything more than too much. That extra boost, unbeknownst to Nicole, is what finally makes him press the blade harder, feeling the cold metal bite into his already-scarred and broken skin. Then, he flicks his hand to the side, gasping and barely holding back a cry as beads of blood poke up along the cut, instantly turning into more and more and more. 

 

It’s running down his arm and everything  _ hurts.  _

 

But for the life of him, he can’t stop. 

 

Again and again and again and again until he can’t hold back his screams of pain and despair. 

 

And again, after that, and then another one. 

 

More and more and more and he wonders, vaguely, if he has any more blood left to bleed out. He lets his head slump back against the door, choked sobs wracking his thin body. 

 

This is it, he thinks. This is the end of everything. On the floor, a distraught friend trying  _ so hard  _ to help him. But her screaming made his heart beat faster and his hands tremble more. 

 

No matter how much she wanted to help, how could she possibly fix someone who didn’t want to be fixed? Who didn’t want to feel better?

 

Or, perhaps better phrasing would be preferable. How was Nicole expected to save someone from themselves? 

 

In short, she couldn’t. 

 

Nobody could except Dan himself. 

 

But Dan is lying on the floor covered in blood and hyperventilating. His heart is beating too fast and he feels like his brain might explode. The blade drops from his hand to the tiled floor with a sharp clang, and his eyes drift close. 

 

-

 

The scars feel ugly. Ugly and stupid and pointless and just plain  _ disgusting.  _ They make his fingers shake a little and his breath come in shorter intervals. 

 

The sight and feels of the past memories makes him want to do it again, which is perhaps the scariest thing about them, the power that they still held. Dull and light and barely visible, and yet they still made him break. 

 

_ Weak.  _

 

He lets his gaze drift up to the sky. It’s simplier up there anyway. Much better than down on earth, at the very least. 

 

They calm his heart, making it easier to breath. He stops running his fingers over his scars and presses his palm flat over his heart, feeling it’s steady beat. He takes deep breaths, his eyes never once leaving the sky. 

 

_ Calm.  _

 

-

 

By the time that Dan goes back to his house, the stars have disappeared and the sun has started its slow climb up the sky. 

 

His breathing is steady and his mind is away from the scars on his body, calmed to the extent of a smile crossing his face. 

 

(In reality, the scars still felt ugly, but Dan was just too starstruck to feel that thought in his mind anymore.)

 

-

 

By the time that Dan drags himself to school, he  _ really  _ regrets staying up all night. His eyes keep drifting shut in class. One moment he was blurrily staring up at the teacher, and the next there was a big thunk as his head hit the desk. 

 

-

 

Phil’s waiting for him, behind the school, a bag beside him, a smile on his face. 

 

Dan says, “Hi,” and “did you bring energy.” Not even stated as a question. 

 

Phil says, “You look like a zombie,” and then he reaches up to grab Dan’s hands, tugging him down to the ground, where Dan fell against Phil’s chest and decided that this would be a great time for nap. 

 

Phil calls Dan a nerd in the most affectionate tone of voice, ducking his head down to place a kiss to the top of Dan’s head, not even attempting to wake Dan up. 

 

-

 

His dreams are plagued by memories that he’d much rather forget. Of Nicole, mostly. Some of her friends.  _ Their  _ friends. It was just that Dan was weird and shy and kept to himself so they never really became  _ his  _ friends. Nicole was his friend. Singular. Nicole. That was, until she wasn’t. 

 

-

 

Phil wakes him up by shaking his body slightly, grimacing at the look that Dan gives him. 

 

Dan says, “I actually hate you.” 

 

And Phil, rolling his eyes, kisses the frown off his face and runs his hands through Dan’s hair. 

 

When he pulls back, Phil says, “You’re late for your next class.” 

 

Dan, groaning, drags Phil into another kiss, leaving his words ignored. 

 

-

 

Phil had managed to persuade Dan to go back to class. How he did it, Dan doesn’t know. Still half-asleep, Dan barely makes his way through the rest of the day. He tells himself that he’s going to go to sleep earlier from now on. Of course, sleepily telling future-him to do something and  _ actually  _ doing the thing are two completely different things. 

 

-

 

When Phil texts him close to three in the morning, Dan gives up trying to sleep completely, and goes to the park to meet his friend. 

 

Phil instantly tells him that he’s not trying to make a habit out of being outside at night, nor is he in any way attempting to keep Dan awake after he’d fallen asleep at school the previous day, in such a worried tone that Dan cuts across him and assures him that everything’s fine and that he was awake anyway and how he’d never want to willingly pass up the opportunity to spend the night with Phil.

 

Lapsing into comfortable silence is something that Dan loves. A conversation coming to an end, and then quiet. Quiet and bodies moving against each other. Maybe not comfortable _ silence _ , persay. But comfortable all the same.

 

He hadn’t come here for this, the taste of Phil on his mouth and his hands buried deep in his hair. 

 

He’d come here because there wasn’t anything else. No sleep. No peace. 

 

And then Phil, around him the atmosphere being lit up like a fucking firework show. Peace. 

 

Phil’s fingers on his waist and Phil’s tongue in his mouth and whatever sleepiness that Dan had been holding wasn’t there anymore.  _ Phil.  _ Everywhere, Phil. 

 

Phil pulls back and Dan whines. 

 

“No,” Phil murmurs, and then, “i’m sorry.” 

 

“About what?” Gasped, needy, hands still gripping at Phil’s body.  _ Are you okay, did I do something wrong, why are you sorry.  _

 

-

 

A year ago, another person, shorter, longer hair. Thick eyeliner. Nicole. “I’m sorry,” 

 

“Why?”

 

_ And then, a universe, crashing down.  _

 

-

 

“About what?” Dan repeats when Phil doesn’t reply right away. His hands are still on Phil. Like if he stopped touching him, Phil would disappear.  Like Nicole. 

 

“For-” 

 

Dan cuts him off with a kiss on his neck, the words left unsaid and tumbling into a low groan. He pushes Dan away. Gently, his hands soft, lacking anything real. 

 

“I didn’t-...  _ Dan, _ ” He says it like Dan’s name means something. “Dan.” His pupils are blown wide. There’s desperation in his tone. 

 

“I- um.” An awkward glance down towards his crotch and  _ oh.  _

 

Dan backs off immediately, his face red with blush, his eyes averted almost uncomfortably. Phil mutters something about needing a few minutes. Dan rolls his eyes, still sitting close enough to Phil that their shoulders touch. 

 

“Jesus christ you’re horny.” Dan nudges Phil with his elbow, “We literally were barely making out.” 

 

“Yeah well - …” Phil fails to come up with a good enough retort, just making a little grumbling noise under his breath. 

 

“Am I really  _ that  _ hot that you get hard with just a kiss?” Dan teases, being careful to keep his voice light. 

 

“You’re too cute to be hot.” Phil bites back, using one of his hands to brush his fringe up into a quiff. 

 

“I can be hot.” Dan argues, turning to glare at Phil. 

 

“ … no, not really.” Phil laughs, “you’re cute.” 

 

“Shut up.” Dan settles into Phil’s side, turning his head to look up towards the sky, which was conveniently speckled by stars. 

  
Phil says, “Cutie.” His voice hushed. He wraps an arm around Dan’s shoulders, drawing him closer.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments pls ^__^


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi pls read notes @ the bottom ty <3
> 
> (this chapter is highkey a mess) (most of it was my own venting) (lol im sorry) (it'll get better) (its more of a filler chapter anyway)

 

 

 

 

Dan’s tired. He doesn’t want to get out of bed. Doesn’t want to do much of anything, really. The dysphoria is there; strong as ever. Maybe that’s the thing that he hates the most about himself: The dysphoria. Some people say that they understand that; understand the self hatred that comes with being stuck in the wrong body. But really,  _ how could they,  _ if they were cis? 

 

When his mum claims that everything will be okay and that she understands, and that what he’s going through is something that every teen goes through-- isn’t she lying, because he’s  _ not  _ every teen. He’s Dan, not Yazi. He’s trans, not cis. He doesn’t know anybody who is trans - save for a couple of youtubers that he watches, more for the education aspect of being trans than anything else. 

 

He feels alone. He can’t go to someone. Say, Phil. He couldn’t go to Phil and have the other boy comfort him, and tell him that everything’s going to be  _ okay.  _ Because how would Phil know, if he’s cis? How could Phil possibly know? How could anybody? Sure, they could have little glimpses, but nothing tangible. They wouldn’t feel dysphoria. 

 

They wouldn’t feel this tired. 

 

There’s a certain level of self hatred, but a lot of it was just the dysphoria. It makes him want to physically claw off his own skin.

 

-

 

School is stressful. He feels like he’s falling apart under the pressure of it. He’s doing too much and yet he still feels like he’s not doing enough. He stops doing his homework completely because whenever he hands it in and gets anything less than a perfect score; he feels like he’s failed somehow. 

 

Of course, he hasn’t failed just because he has gotten a lower score, but still.

 

His mind is constantly messing with him and he’s so  _ tired. _

 

-

 

Phil’s embrace is more than welcoming after a long day. Dan melts into his arms, taking a long, shuddering breath and burying his face into Phil’s chest. 

 

Take another deep breath. Now, close your eyes. Feel, where are you? 

 

In, and out, darkness. Phil’s arms, Phil’s body, Phil’s heart, beating slowly and steadily beneath Dan’s cheek, further calming him. Phil’s saying something, maybe asking if Dan’s okay. Or alternatively, what’s wrong.

 

God, it feels like everything is wrong. 

 

Everything, and it’s all piling up. 

 

It’s too much. It’s all just - too much. He doesn’t know if he can deal with it anymore. He misses the sharp kiss of the blade against his pale skin. 

 

But he’s here in Phil’s arms, safe from physical harm. 

l

Only for the time being. Phil would leave and then - and then. 

 

_ God.  _

 

Since when does the world spin like this? Since when does the world hurt like this? 

 

Phil’s arms are drawing tighter around Dan’s thin body, one hand coming up to comb gently through Dan’s ever-so-slightly curly hair. 

 

“It’ll be okay, Danny,” Phil’s saying. 

 

But the thing is, it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be okay. Because everything hurts but at the same time everything’s so empty and heavy and full and  _ painful.  _ In Dan’s eyes, it’s not going to be okay. Not by a long shot. He feels so broken, and used up, and thoroughly useless. 

 

He’s none of those things. 

 

But his mind refuses to think of himself as anything but that. 

 

Phil’s arms are around him, holding him together. When all Dan is doing is breaking apart. 

 

-

 

Phil’s gone. He hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d been worried about Dan. They’re all worried, all the time. Phil, the teachers at school, Dan’s parents. 

 

But Phil had to leave. 

 

And Dan is now alone. Feeling the worst that he has in a long time. And he doesn’t know  _ what to do.  _

 

-

 

Everything’s hazy. It’s like he’s looking at his life through a keyhole. Not really there. It’s almost as if he can’t feel anything. Is he dreaming? He can’t remember going to sleep but he still doesn’t feel like he’s properly awake. Through a keyhole. Hazy. Dream-like. Sitting on the edge of a bathtub, rolling up his sleeves. 

 

Numb. 

 

A razor, in his hand. 

 

And  _ god  _ is he really going to do this?

 

-

 

Sleep is laced through with unease. 

 

-

 

The feeling’s not gone the next day. He had hoped that after a good night’s sleep that the hurt would go away. 

 

He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the day. 

 

The binder fits too tight. His hair is growing out a little and it only adds to the dysphoria. Everything feels too feminine.  _ Too much. Way too much. Make it stop, please. _

 

-

 

He walks to school, the overcast sky reflecting his emotional state perfectly. 

 

He pauses, in front of the school door, weighing his options. 

 

Then, he turns around and walks in the opposite direction.  _ Fuck school.  _

 

-

 

He doesn’t go home. God, he doesn’t want to go ‘home’ ever again. He goes to the park instead, where he and Phil had been. Except that now Phil’s not there. Instead, there are countless children and their parents. He almost regrets coming but sits down on the edge of a bench anyway, pulling a book out of his bag and trying to lose himself in the story. At least for a little while. 

 

It’s weird, how invisible he is. 

 

Nobody seems to notice him. 

 

Nobody bothers him. 

 

He almost wishes that he could do this everyday. Until he remembers how much school he’s missing and feels his throat choke up.  _ Too much, this is all too much, and yet not enough.  _

 

-

 

Phil texts him just after noon, when Dan would usually meet him. 

 

Dan doesn’t reply. 

 

-

 

Everything is falling apart at a steady pace and there’s nothing that Dan can do to stop it.

 

-

 

That night, Dan lays in bed, his hands resting on his stomach, tears racing down his cheeks. He thinks, ‘I need Phil’, and then, ‘I need Nicole’, and after that he hates himself a little bit more.

 

-

 

The amount of notifications that Dan wakes up to is absolutely horrifying, in his opinion. Dozens from Phil. Even one from Nicole. He breath catches in his throat as he sees it; 

 

Nic:  _ where have you been ive missed u  _

 

He doesn’t know if he can reply to it. He does anyway. 

 

Dan:  _ i miss you too.  _

 

And he does. Fuck, he does. 

 

He locks his phone again before he replies to Phil. A sick feeling settles in his belly. 

 

-

 

At lunch the next day, Dan’s almost disappointed to see that Phil isn’t yet sitting on the dusty patch of ground behind the building. He pulls out the same book that he had started yesterday, and begins reading. He’s hoping that Phil will show up. 

 

But scared, too, because he’s so unresponsive. He’s scared that Phil will think that Dan doesn’t like him and he’s scared that Phil won’t see how lost Dan is. 

 

But fear isn’t helping him so he pushes it down and tries so hard to focus on the words in front of him. He doesn’t know if it’s working. 

 

Phil does show up. He’s not mad that Dan hadn’t been there the day before, instead, he was worried about how Dan was feeling. 

 

Phil says, “Hey Danny.” 

 

And Dan says, “I told you to stop calling me that.” 

 

And then Phil hugs him again and all Dan can think is:  _ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.  _ Because what did he do to deserve someone like this? Since when did he get to be with the Good Guy? Since when did someone who actually  _ cared  _ about things pay any sort of attention to him? 

 

Usually it was someone looking for a good fuck. 

 

Or Nicole, who simply didn’t have her life together enough to care.

 

Dan lets Phil hold him and is scared that Phil will leave once he realizes how well and truly fucked up Dan feels. 

 

-

 

Feeling good is something that takes a long time. Dan feels a spark of it that night when Phil texts him saying:

 

Phil:  _ Goodnight dannyyyyyyy <3333 _

 

The spark being Dan’s stomach flopping around happily.  _ Happily. Happiness.  _ It’s something that he has a hard time feeling. 

 

But with Phil, it seems to come easier.

 

-

 

Dan wakes up feeling a bit more awake than usual. He tells himself that this means he’s getting over the depression, though he can still feel it lurking there, right under his skin, waiting for the worst time to make it’s re-appearance. 

 

It’s horrible, living like this, but at the point that Dan is now at, it’s impossible to avoid.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly; I just wanted to say that I have this fic pretty much mapped out, BUT there's a big empty space between now and the ending -- just because i need some filler stuff that i can use to add some ~development~ that being said, if you want anything specific to happen in this fic, please, please leave a comment telling me as this is the perfect time for me to maybe fit some of that stuff in. Nothing too big, just lil things. (do you want phil to get a pet? do you want more flashbacks from dan? flashbacks from phil? more about their family & all of that?? literally anything little like that that i can write a little bit about)
> 
> Secondly; here a playlist of all the music i listen to whilst writing (i mean theres other music i constantly forget to add songs whoops) so if you wanna really ~get in the zone~ whilst readin you can go listen to that if you want i guess [here it is](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLj6d8B0C3s2ICjdjMKvrZJ9_d1_2vetQb)
> 
> And finally; lots of people who read this fic are ftm trans and thats great!! all the feedback that i've gotten back from them is so nice, and im very, very happy that this fic is at least somewhat realistic. I, myself, am not trans, however i am agender (demiboy? idk lol im figuring things out still) so i do have ~some~ experience with dysphoria and all that stuff, but at the same time its also amazing to hear what people say 
> 
> (a huge thanks to everyone's who's left comments on this fic so far... they really are greatly appreciated.) 
> 
> OH AND you can always go follow me on tumblr @greyscalepml because that'd be nice.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello I hope u enjoy this . i am sorry it took so long!! 
> 
>  
> 
> (not that you'd care but im leaving a lil' authors note at the bottom so if you wanna read that you can ok bye leave comments xx)
> 
>  
> 
> (This chapter is quite rough. I am aware of that . but i gotta jus update this,, better chapters are coming soon i swear !!)

 

 

  
  


 

 

 

 

Lunch is probably Dan’s favorite time of the day, because that’s when he gets an hour to spend with Phil. 

 

Phil always greets him with a soft hug and a kiss on his cheek, smiling warming when Dan leans into his side, more often than not letting his eyes drift close. It’s hard for Phil to wake Dan up after the bell rings, simply because Dan looks so peaceful, in a way that he never was when he was awake. 

 

-

 

The thing that Dan loves most about being at Phil’s house is the friendly atmosphere. 

 

When you walk through the front door, you’re immediately welcomed by both the abundance of family photos lining the walls and the scent of some sort of freshly baked dessert. 

 

The house was kept tidy but not overly clean, making it homey and lived in but not messy. The house itself was quite a bit larger than the one that Dan had moved into, due to Phil having several other siblings, the majority of which had already moved out. 

 

Left at home was Phil, his parents, and a younger sister named Maria. Maria was twelve and liked horses a little too much. When she was eight, she had been taken to a horse fair as a birthday present but after seeing a show jumping competition at said show, she has made it her one and only goal to become one of those riders. 

 

Out of all the people in Phil’s house however, Phil was obviously Dan’s favorite. He had no idea what exactly they are -- as they had yet to put a label on their relationship -- but whatever the hell they are, Dan loves it. 

 

He loves how comfortable he’s become around Phil. He loves how they didn’t always talk, but still had the ability to enjoy each other’s company without a constant chit chat. 

 

He loved how Phil brings him muffins and holds him close on especially bad days. 

 

He loves how Phil has never pushed him to do things that he doesn’t want to do. 

 

He loves that Phil replies to his texts even though sometimes they’re completely random and meaningless. 

 

He loves that right now, he’s pressed up against Phil’s body, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, ankle to ankle. 

 

Phil’s voice is hushed when he speaks; “Dan.” 

 

“What?” Dan replies, keeping his voice just as quiet. The room around them is dark, and though it’s definitely not the first time they’ve shared a bed, Dan still feels discomfort low in his belly at the notion that right here, right now, he’s completely unprotected. It’s hard to trust people when everybody has been messing with you your whole life. 

 

“I wanted to ask you something.” 

 

“Tell me.” 

 

“Are we dating?” Phil’s voice is so soft that Dan can barely hear it. 

 

“Dating?” He questions. 

 

“Yes, you dork. Dating. As in boyfriends.” Phil snorts. 

 

_ Boyfriends.  _ It has a nice ring to it, Dan will admit. It’s sounds so much ebtter than ‘girlfriend and boyfriend.’ 

 

“I don’t know.” Dan replies honestly. 

 

“I mean we do pretty much everything that couples do.” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So why don’t we just take it that little step forwards? Do you, Daniel Howell, want to be my boyfriend?” 

 

There’s a pause before Dan speaks up, laughter in his tone, “That’s gay, Phil. That’s really gay.” 

 

“Like us.” Phil laughs. He leans over quickly and pecks Dan’s cheek. Dan’s glad that it’s dark enough that Phil can’t see the bright blush spreading across his face. 

 

“You’re a nerd.” Dan giggles, happiness etched in his voice.

 

“So are you.” Phil mumbles back, and the Phil’s arms are suddenly around Dan’s waist and he’s pulling him into a tight hug. Dan, for what was probably the first time, actually accepts it, and let’s Phil cuddle up to him. Dan even goes so far as to tilt his head upwards to place a chaste kiss to Phil’s chin. 

 

“The answer’s yes, by the way.” Dan grins, “I’d love to be your boyfriend.” 

 

And with those words, Nicole, for the first time in a long time, doesn’t come to Dan’s mind.

 

-

 

Dan decides that he really, really, really likes the taste of Phil’s lips. They’re always quite sweet, like he’s just eaten some sort of sugar-covered strawberries. They’re soft, too. And welcoming. And gentle, instead of demanding. 

 

Just thinking of them now brings a smile to Dan’s face. 

 

God, he’s such a loser. 

 

-

 

Whenever Dan can’t sleep, he texts Phil. And whenever Phil can’t sleep, he texts Dan. More often than not it resulted in them walking to each other's houses and laying in bed, inches apart because Dan has never really gotten the hang of the whole cuddling thing.

 

-

 

“Oi! Boyfriend!” Dan shouts, jumping up from his dusty spot behind the school, watching eagerly as Phil joggs up to him.

 

“Hey nerd.” Phil says, though his voice is lacking some of it’s usual life. He pecks Dan’s cheek and says, “I brought muffins.” 

 

Instead of asking, “What type of muffins?”, or, “Thank god you brought food I’m starving,” as he’d usually say, he says, “What’s wrong?” and brings a hand up to cup Phil’s cheek. 

 

It’s only been two nights since that of which they officially started dating, and they’re both still very much in the honeymoon period of their relationship. Soft touches and gentle caresses are simply part of how they act around each other. 

 

“Nothin’ is wrong.” Phil mutters. His eyes stay glued to the ground. Dan frowns. 

 

“I’m not gonna push you if you don’t wanna tell me, but please don’t lie.” Dan says seriously, darling forwards to kiss the tip of Phil’s nose quickly. 

 

“Okay,” Phil replies after a second’s pause, but he doesn’t add anything else on to that. 

 

“So. Muffins?” Dan changes the subject, grabbing hold of one of Phil’s hands and quickly lacing their fingers together, dragging Phil down to the ground with him and sitting with his legs crossed.

 

The troubled look on Phil’s face dissipates as soon as he and Dan launch into conversation. 

 

-

 

The binder  _ hurts.  _ Vaguely, he wonders if binders are supposed to hurt his body this badly. The amount of bruises that he’s collecting is truly terribly amazing. 

 

He’s standing in front of the long mirror in his bathroom again, just having gotten out of the shower. All he’s wearing is a towel tied around his waist. His body is on full display, and his dysphoria towards it was so very much present. 

 

It makes Dan want to physically vomit when he sees his body. It’s not  _ him.  _ It’s a feminine body, too curvy to fit him in any way.

 

The mirror says that Dan isn't masculine enough and Dan, tired and sad as he is, believes it. 

 

He puts the binder back on.

 

-

 

God, it hurts so much. He can barely find the energy to tug it off. When he does manage to get it off, he takes a breath so deep that a sharp pain shoots through his ribs. 

 

He doesn’t know if he can keep going like this.

 

-

  
  


His body is bruised and battered and his mind is a mess and he constantly wonders if everything had been simply a huge mistake. Wouldn’t everything be so much easier if he could just live authentically? Of course, that’s what he thought that he’d be doing in moving to a new place, with a new name and a new gender and a new  _ everything _ . But now, he still can’t stop feeling like he’s lying to both himself and the people around him. 

 

And judging by the mental state that he finds himself slipping into, the feeling of lying is going a bit too deep. 

 

Maybe it was because people  _ didn’t  _ see that he wasn’t cis. Sure, the feeling of passing as well as he is, is most definitely something quite significantly bringing him happiness, but also knowing that people view him as a gay cis male is something that just generally gets on his nerves. 

 

Because that’s not who he is. He  _ does  _ want to be viewed as a boy, that much is very true, but he doesn’t want to be seen as  _ just  _ a boy. Or something like that. 

 

It frustrates him. If he’s trans, then why’s he feeling like this? 

 

How couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying to himself. But then again, people seeing him as a girl made him feel physically sick. 

  
God, he was so fucking  _ lost. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So what exactly is happening with this fic? Why haven't I updated it in like... almost two months ?? Surely it can't take me /two whole months/ to write a single chapter that isn't very long at all ! 
> 
> Well.
> 
> Listen up kiddos. 
> 
> The thing is, I'm a mess. There's literally no other explanation. I've got a job and so many other responsibilities that make it vv hard for me to find time to write this fic!! I do write when I can, but most of the time I focus on other fics of mine. I'm writing one for the pbb. That's a thing that I'm working on. 
> 
> Uhhh basically don't expect regular updated I'm Sorry I Really Am but I am doing this just for fun and forcing myself to write is taking away the fun!! 
> 
> requests for stuff that you want to be in this fic are still open... (watch out next chapter for maybe some animals... like cats....shhh) 
> 
> And yes, Mr.Philly is going to be fleshed out a tad bit more, however, this fic is supposed to mainly be based around Dan being trans, and how he deals with leaving things behind and all that shiz, rather than based around Phan. 
> 
> Thanks for all your patience and comments !! <3 (seriously though. I would not still be writing this without all the comments I'm getting. I'm not motivated to do anything so seeing people liking what I can create really makes me want to do it more !!)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Please leave comments/kudos!!


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